Hot Water
by The Blue Raven
Summary: Ghost story set in season 1. Out of water and dying, the crew encounters a planetsized sphere of drinkable water floating in space, but they soon realize that what they thought of as their salvation might be worse than the alternative.
1. Out of Time

****

Hot Water

By: Blue

****

Summary: Ghost story set in season 1. Out of water and dying, the crew encounters a planet-sized sphere of drinkable water floating in space. However, they soon realize that what they thought of as their salvation might be worse than the alternative.

****

Rating: PG

****

Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm only borrowing and promise to put them back in roughly the same shape I borrowed them in.

****

Timeline: Set in the first season after the crew picked up Chiana. (Why first season, you ask? I don't know. Because my muses say so, I guess, and arguing with muses is a no-win proposition.)

****

Spoilers: General for the first season, but none for specific eps.

****

Feedback: Feedback is good. Feedback is _great_. Feedback is better than that drenn John keeps snorting because Granny Wrinkles says that it'll make him forget all his problems with Aeryn. In other words: feed me!!!

****

Chapter 1 -- Out of Time

John tried to climb gracefully out of the Prowler, but stumbled instead, too weak and too uncoordinated to catch himself.

  
"Whoa, take it easy there…" Chiana said, reaching up to break his fall. Of course, she was not much stronger than he was right now, and only the fact that he was also hanging on to the edge of the Prowler kept them both from ending up on the floor.

"Thanks, Pip…" he groaned, easing himself the rest of the way down.

  
"Yeah, yeah. You, uh… Did you…"

"No, Chiana." He sighed and shook his head, regarding her sadly. She looked worse than he felt. "No water."

  
"Frell…" she muttered, sighing.

"How's Aeryn?" he asked.

"Oh, she's even more foul-tempered than usual." Chiana grinned. Humor had always been her defense-mechanism of choice. 

  
"Yeah, I'll bet." John sighed. 

Aeryn got irritated when her few weaknesses began showing, and now was no exception. Sebacians, it seemed, were as susceptible to dehydration as they were to heat delirium. She did not have to say it, and none of the others had to tell him for John to know the truth. Aeryn Sun was dying. Of course, they were _all_ dying, but Aeryn was getting there a lot faster than the rest of them.

  
"She needs water, John…" Chiana told him, shaking her head. She had not been with the crew long, but, although she would not have admitted it, she genuinely respected and cared for Aeryn, for all of them. "I… I offered her some of my ration today, but she refused."

John nodded. "Okay. I'll talk to her." He nodded again, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head, another symptom of his dehydration. "I'll talk to her, get a drink of water, then get searching again."

Chiana nodded. "John…" she began.

"I know, Chiana!" he replied shortly. "If I don't find water soon, we're _all_ dead. I know." He nodded and sighed, regretting having snapped at the obviously-scared girl. "I do…"

Chiana stared at her feet. "I was going to say that D'Argo wants to talk to you, but, yeah, that too." 

"Hey, Pip… I am _not_ going to let you down. Promise."

She nodded and looked up at him hopefully. "Yeah, John, I know. You should… go. I'll make sure the DRDs refuel the Prowler okay." 

"Thanks, Chi." He smiled and patted her shoulder, then left the docking-bay. "Yo, Pilot!" he called, tapping his Comm. "Where's Aeryn?"

"In the mess-hall, Commander." 

John winced. Even Pilot was beginning to sound tired and listless. "And D'Argo?"

"On Command."

John nodded and veered towards the mess-hall. "How you holding up?" he asked Pilot.

"I suffer with the rest of you, however my connection to Moya helps to stave off the worst of the dehydration. She is supplying me with as much fluid as she can spare."

John considered this. Pilot's tone was always hard to read. "How bad is it?"

"Moya _is_ in significant distress, but her body is more equipped to retain fluids for long lengths of time. She is not yet in any real danger."

John nodded. "Okay. That's good to hear, Pilot. You hang in there."

  
"Thank you, Commander."

John sighed as he closed the Commlink. It seemed that the only member of the crew who was _not_ suffering from the effects of dehydration was Rygel. Typical. Shaking his head and putting on his brave face, he hoped, he walked into the mess-hall. Aeryn was sitting at a table, resting her chin on her hands and staring at a blank section of wall. 

They had assigned her to handle the daily distribution of water, as much to keep her from moving around at all as anything. She spent her days in the mess-hall measuring out water for the rest of the crew and keeping track of daily intake. They had been rationing their water for more than a month and had been on short rations for the past week. Aeryn had began suffering almost immediately after rationing had begun, and John, D'Argo, and Zhann had decided that this duty would be best for her. She resolutely refused to drink more than her equal share of the water in spite of her symptoms and had been unfailing fair in distributing the waning supply. Even Rygel could find no reason to complain.

"Hey, Aeryn…" John said softly.

"Crichton…" she said softly, rising. "Anything?"

He shook his head. "Sit down, Aeryn, I'll get it."

"My job, I'll do it…" she announced, walking over to the refrigeration unit. Wobbling, actually, was a more accurate description.

"Damn, girl. You drinking your quota?"

She nodded. "Just like the rest of you." She consulted the check-list that she kept and looked at John. "You have another glass and a half for today."

"Just give me half a glass."

She nodded and carefully measured it out and handed it to John. "If you're going back out, you should have more."

"Not thirsty…" John told her.

"That's a symptom of dehydration."

"I know…" he said, sighing. 

He nodded and took a small sip, ignoring the taste and resisting the urge to swallow the full five ounces at once. It was not water at all, but purified neural fluid from Moya, as much as they could safely extract without causing permanent damage. It tasted absolutely foul, had been recycled twice, boiled three times, purified seven ways to Sunday, and was _still_ nothing resembling pure water. But it had water in it, and it was all that was left. The crew was grateful for it, foul taste and all. 

"Here…" he moved the glass towards her mouth, but she shook her head and leaned away.

"No…" she protested. "I've already had my ration for the day."

"It's not enough!" he snapped.

"_It's not enough for_ any_ of us!_" she shouted back, shaking her head. "Don't you understand that, human? We are _all_ dying. It will be better if we die at different times." She shook her head and looked down at her hands on the table, watching them shake and feeling strangely detached.

"How do you figure?" John muttered, shaking his head.

"When I die, my share of the water will be redistributed among the rest of you. That means more for all. And my _blood_--"

"I don't think so!" John exclaimed, shaking his head in disgust. "Aeryn, _no_!"

"This is the reality of life in this part of space. It is the Peacekeeper way."

"Screw the Peacekeepers!" John snapped, jumping up. He grabbed the back of her head and forced the glass to her mouth. "_Drink it!_"

  
She shook her head and made a negative sound, keeping her mouth firmly closed.

"You drink it or it's going to end up all over the floor!"

"Frell you!" she snapped, jerking her head out of his grip. "You have no right! _You_, more than anyone, _need_ to stay hydrated. You are the only one of us well enough to go look for water. I will not allow you to condemn them to death because of some misguided--"

"Do you _want_ to die?" John demanded, cutting her off. "Because it sure sounds that way from over here."

Aeryn glared at him, furious. "Do _not_ presume to judge me, John Crichton…" she told him in a low, angry voice. "You do not know what you are talking about. Now finish your water and get the frell back to the Prowler." 

John shook his head, too tired and too confused to frame any kind of response to that. He drained his glass and stalked off. Aeryn picked up the glass, regarding it for a moment before licking off a few drops that were dripping down the outer surface. Sighing, she returned it to the refrigeration unit.

***

"Someone has _got_ to do something about Aeryn…" John announced as he walked onto Command. 

He stopped in his tracks, aware that he had interrupted D'Argo in the act of giving a sip of water to Zhann. The Delvian was sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall, her hands wrapped around D'Argo's. His, in turn, were wrapped around a glass of water. Zhann was _not_ looking good. In fact, John seriously doubted that she was even aware of D'Argo _or_ the water. D'Argo held the glass until she had drained it, then lightly touched the back of his hand to her face, sighing. Shaking his head, he rose.

  
"Crichton." He nodded at John, doing his best not to look guilty. "Nothing?"

John shook his head. "That was your water."

D'Argo nodded. "She finished hers arns ago."

  
"How long has she been like that?" John asked.

"Half an arn." He shook his head. "I didn't know what else to do."

"No, you… you did the right thing, man." John nodded reassuringly. 

This whole situation was insane. He remembered, as a child, reading stories about sailors, lost and dying of thirst. The stories had scared the hell out of him then, but the reality was worse. He also recalled that sometimes these sailors would kill one of their number and drink their blood, as Aeryn had proposed they do to her once she died. He shivered, pushing the thought out of his mind. They _would_ find water before it came to that. They _had_ to…

"Long range scans show a large asteroid field…" D'Argo told him.

"Ice?" John asked.

D'Argo nodded. "We hope." He sighed and looked at Zhann again. He moved to the other end of Command and nodded for John to join him. "Aeryn says that we have less than a day's worth of drinkable fluid left."

"Good…" John muttered. "I was getting tired of brain juice, anyway."

"_Not_ funny…" D'Argo growled.

"D'Argo, _nothing_ about this situation is funny. We're cannibalizing our own ship, Aeryn's talking about doing the same to _each other_…" He shook his head. "There _has_ to be something else on this ship we can drink?" Remembering what Aeryn had said about her blood and hating himself, John asked, "Moya's got blood, right?"

D'Argo shook his head. "There's no way to purify out all the alkaloids. It would kill us faster than the dehydration."

"Swell. Then I guess the asteroids are our only hope?"

D'Argo nodded. "They seem to be. The problem is that they're almost two days from here."

"Damn…" John muttered, shaking his head. "Dying of thirst in sight of the oasis…"

"Aeryn won't make it that long, and I don't think Zhann will either."

"They can have my water. Two days isn't that long…" John said.

D'Argo nodded slowly. "Can Aeryn be convinced to accept it, though?"

"You hold her, I'll grab a funnel…"

D'Argo nodded. "I've already given Zhann all of my water for the day. She's welcomed to tomorrow's as well. How are the others?"

"Chiana's sick, but I think she's got two days left in her. And Rygel is… Rygel."

D'Argo nodded. "I wonder how much drinkable fluid could be extracted from _his_ body?"

"Who would drink it?" John scoffed, shaking his head. "This is cutting it close, but I think we can make it."

D'Argo nodded. "Pilot, set a course for the asteroid field."

  
"Yes, Ka D'Argo."

"I'll tell the others…" John offered, suspecting that D'Argo would want to stay with Zhann.

"Thank you. I'll--"

"John!" Chiana's voice came over the Comm. "I need you in the mess-hall!"

"Aeryn…" John gasped, taking off at a run. When he arrived, Chiana was kneeling on the floor next to an unconscious Aeryn, shaking her frantically. 

"She just passed out!" Chiana explained, looking up at John with wide eyes.

"Okay. It's okay. I've got another glass due to me today. Get it for me!" he ordered, dropping to his knees next to Aeryn and wondering if ten ounces of water would do her any good at all. It would _have_ to.

Chiana poured with shaking hands, barely managing to avoid spilling any. She handed the glass to John, who pulled Aeryn into a sitting position in his arms, cradled against his chest. Her eyelids did not even flutter as he forced her to drink the entire glassful. John closed his eyes and held Aeryn against his chest for several more minutes, waiting and hoping.

"John…" Chiana began uncertainly, watching him.

"She's still alive. For how long, I don't know. Grab her feet. Let's get her to her room."

Chiana nodded shakily and helped John carry Aeryn to her room. Even between the two of them, it was an effort.

"So, this is how it ends?" Chiana asked as John pulled Aeryn's boots off and did his best to make her comfortable. "We just… pop off, one at a time?" She looked at John with wide eyes. "It _can't_ end like this."

"Come here…" John pulled her into a gentle hug. "Chi, you're doing great so far. Think you can hang on for two more days?"

  
"What happens in two days?" she asked softly.

"D'Argo's found an asteroid field. Asteroid fields usually have ice. Think you can hang on for that long?"

She nodded, chuckling softly. "Yeah, oh, yeah. Two days. No problem."

"Okay. Let's get out of here, let Aeryn get some rest." John was reluctant to leave her, but wanted to take the Prowler out again to scout the asteroid field, maybe even snag some samples of ice.

"Will she be okay alone?" Chiana asked.

John nodded. "I think so." He _hoped_ so. "Come on, I need your help on pre-flight."

As soon as they had left, Rygel came out of the room he had been hiding in and approached Aeryn's bed, clutching a cup of water in one hand. He looked around cautiously before slowly pouring a few drops down Aeryn's throat. When she did not protest or show any sign of waking, he gave her more.

"Don't think I'm doing this because I like you…" he muttered, giving her a few more sips. "Because I _don't_. But…" He shrugged and poured the rest of the water down her throat. "Having you around keeps me from getting killed. And now you owe me one…" Smiling smugly, he left.


	2. Too Good to be True

****

Chapter 2 -- Too Good to be True

"What the hell is that?" John muttered, taking the Prowler in closer. He turned on the Comm. "Yo, D!"

"Go ahead, John."

"I'm sending some pix your way. Tell me if I'm hallucinating." He _had_ to be. The mass looked like a ball of water, floating serenely in the vacuum. A _huge_ ball of water. The thing was easily the size of earth, and had been obscured from their sensors by the asteroid field. 

"What the frell…" D'Argo's whisper carried over the Prowler's Comm. 

John grinned. "Yeah, that was about my response. You ever seen anything like it?"

"No."

  
"If I may interrupt…" Pilot interjected.

"Shoot…" John told him. "You know what it is?"

"I have heard… stories of such phenomena. Spheres of water, floating in space."

"What keeps it together like that?" Chiana's eager voice asked.

"Surface cohesion…" John replied quickly. "Pilot, is it drinkable?"

"Quite possibly."

John nodded, relieved. Assuming that the fates were in a better mood than they had been lately, their problem was solved. "I'll bring a sample back to Moya."

"Bring a big one back!" Chiana laughed.

John laughed. "Copy that. Dibs on the first shower!"

***

Aeryn awoke to a feeling that she never would have imagined begin so grateful for. Someone was smoothing a damp cloth over her face. "He found water?" she whispered, opening her eyes and smiling at Zhann.

"He has." Zhann nodded and helped Aeryn sit up, holding a glass to her lips. "Enough to supply us for years to come."

Aeryn gave a small sigh and leaned back, smiling. "He's finally done something right…"

Zhann laughed softly. "Indeed he has, child. He's bringing another load back now."

Aeryn nodded and struggled to sit up.

"Lie back. You are still weak." Zhann smiled at her. "Just rest, Aeryn."

"Where did he find it? Planet? Trading Outpost?"

Zhann shook her head. "A miracle from the Goddess. A sphere of water, floating in open space."

Aeryn frowned, narrowing her eyes. "I've heard of them, but…"

"They aren't supposed to exist." Zhann nodded. "Yet here you and I are, living proof that they _do_. We'd have been dead days ago if not for John's find."

"Days?" Aeryn repeated, frowning. "How long was I unconscious?"

"This is the third day since Chiana found you. John found the water that same day."

"Frell…" she whispered. "That's cutting it close."

  
"Yes, but all is well that ends well."

Aeryn nodded slowly. "You've heard tales of these water-planets?" she asked.

Zhann nodded. "Mmm-hmm. Many years ago, when I was still a child. Why?"

Aeryn shook her head. "Nothing. Just… thinking. It's funny. Whenever _I_ heard these tales, they were always ghost-stories."

"Ghost stories?" Zhann repeated, startled.

Aeryn nodded. "When we were children, we would tell each other scary stories. They always started the same way. Some Marauder crew or retrieval squad, lost and wandering aimless, out of water… they'd stumble across these water-planets and the crew would start dying…" She shook her head, shrugging. "Strange stories. I never saw the point myself. No real moral or cautionary point…"

Zhann frowned. "Get some rest, child…" she told Aeryn, rising. "You are still weak."

Aeryn nodded. "Yes, Zhann."

"Call if you need anything."

  
"Okay."

Zhann smiled at her and left. Once she was out of ear-shot, she activated her Comm. "Pilot, you said that you have heard of these water-planets as well?" she asked.

"Yes, Zhann."

"_What_ have you heard of them?" Zhann asked gently.

"What do you mean?" Pilot asked, and Zhann could hear the caution in his voice.

"Aeryn says that she's heard no good of these places, Pilot. What have _you_ heard?"

"Mmm…" Pilot began.

Zhann frowned, startled. Pilot was seldom genuinely reluctant to answer a direct question. "I'm coming up there, Pilot. We'll talk when I arrive."

"Yes, Zhann." He looked up slowly when she arrived, reluctant to speak.

"Pilot, is this thing dangerous?" she asked softly.

"Perhaps, but the crew _will_ die if we don't go."

"What have you heard?" she pressed.

"Tales of Leviathans, their Pilots, their entire crews, dead of dehydration in orbit around these water-planets."

"Credible tales?" Zhann asked, frowning. It made no sense that an entire crew should die of dehydration in such a fashion. There would have been at least a handful of survivors. 

  
"I… do not know."

Zhann sighed deeply. "John has told me of a human saying: if it is too good to be true, it probably is."

"Then you are concerned?" he asked.

"Somewhat." She nodded. "It would perhaps be wise to stay for as short a span as we may, take only as much water as we need…"

"Moya and I are… in agreeance with you, Zhann."

Zhann smiled and lightly touched the crest of his head. "You have mentioned that there is much piracy in this sector. All the more reason to leave quickly. I will speak to the others."

"Thank you, Zhann. Moya and I are grateful."

Zhann smiled gently and left, secretly troubled. A priestess might be forgiven a certain degree of superstition, but when Pilots and Peacekeepers were afraid of ghosts… it was not impossible that the ghosts were real. And deadly. Caution was more than advisable in such situations, and the pirates that swarmed the area were as good an excuse as any to sway the others where fairy-stories might not. Had they not been so desperate, she would have endeavored to convince the others to bypass the water-planet altogether. 

***

"Hey, looks who's back on her feet!" John called loudly as he half-supported Aeryn into Command.

  
"Hey!" Chiana smiled and joined them. "Good to see you vertical again."

Aeryn smiled faintly. "Thank you, Chiana." 

"Aeryn." D'Argo smiled. "We're almost in visual range. You're going to love this. It is _magnificent_."

"Good." Aeryn smiled, feeling a little uneasy from one too many childhood ghost-stories. She brushed that aside and approached the view-screen. "Any sign of pirates?"

"Nah." Chiana shook her head.

"They seem to avoid this particular area of space…" Rygel added.

  
Aeryn glanced at him, blinking as she recalled a dream in which he had given her water. "Really?" she asked, digesting what he had said.

"But discretion is still called for…" Zhann added gently.

Aeryn nodded in agreement. "Always, yeah."

John watched in silence as the conversation unfolded. Aeryn was spooked, Zhann was spooked, Pilot _might_ have been spooked but it was not always easy to tell with him. Even the bad guys avoided this part of space. He found himself feeling more than a little spooked as this information put itself together in his head like the pieces of a puzzle. Yeah, pieces were still missing, but he was _not_ liking the overall shape one bit.

"So we go in, get the water, and get the hell out of Dodge?" he asked. "That the plan?"

"Good plan." Chiana nodded. "I think. What's Dodge?"

"Never mind, Pip." John shook his head. "The point is that we do this as quickly as possible and then _leave_ as quickly as possible. That sound about right to the rest of you?"

"There it is!" Zhann exclaimed suddenly, pointing to the small, but rapidly growing, blue mass on the screen. "Pure water."

"Pure, _drinkable_ water…" D'Argo corrected her, smiling.

Chiana smiled widely. "It is going to feel so good to be able to take a _shower_ again."

John looked around for Aeryn and saw that she had slipped away. Sighing, he went to find her.

***

"Do Peacekeepers have horror flicks?" he asked as he walked on to the Terrace. 

Aeryn was crouching there, in the center of the Terrace, staring at the blue, rippling surface that dominated the entire view in all directions. She did not look up at John. "I don't know. What are they?"

"A form of entertainment. Aliens, monsters, ghosts, killers, or whatever stalk unsuspecting humans, usually teenagers."

  
"And this is amusing?" she asked, frowning.

John shrugged. "In it's own way, yeah. My point is that the characters in these movies always do the most _stupid_ things. They hear a scary noise, they go to investigate, usually alone, they get killed. They know a spirit is evil, they summon it anyway, they get killed. They're told to stay out of the haunted house, they go in anyway, they get killed. Sensing a pattern?"

Aeryn nodded tersely. "Natural selection, Crichton. The unfit do not survive."

John rolled his eyes. "No, Aeryn, the _other_ pattern. The one where people do things that they _know_ are a bad idea and end up dead. _That_ pattern."

"I see."

"You've been on edge since I discovered this thing. Anything you want to share with me?"

She turned and regarded him thoughtfully. "We need water. Without it, we die."

"And that thing is _full_ of water. So what's got you so edgy?"

"These 'horror clicks', they're like ghost stories, yes?"

He nodded. "You have those, too?"

She nodded. "Children tell them to each other in the barracks at night. To scare each other."

John walked to the edge of the Terrace and turned to face her, spreading his arms wide to indicate the rippling blue surface behind him. "This baby figure in to any of them?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

She shrugged. "Did I mention they're just stories?"

"Tell me anyway."

"Okay." She nodded. "Crews, lost and desperate for water, would stumble over these water-planets. Usually, they had already started drinking the blood of their dead by this time… But… in orbit around these water-planets, strange things would start to happen." She frowned, remembering how many sleepless nights she had spent hiding under her covers after hearing this tale.

  
"What kinds of strange things?" John asked, approaching her. She could say that they were just stories all she wanted, but she was _scared_, he realized. When Aeryn Sun was scared, it was time to get scared yourself. He crouched in front of her. "Aeryn?"

She considered leaning away, but changed her mind. He was just trying to be friendly, or comforting, or _whatever_, in his strange, human way. "It would start with the voices…" she whispered, closing her eyes.

"Voices?" John repeated, frowning.

She nodded. "Ghostly voices over the Comm system, with no apparent source." She dropped the rest of the way to the deck, crossing her legs and thinking hard, trying to summon up stories she had not heard in better than forty cycles. "The Captain invariable dismisses them as spatial interference. Static. You've heard it on the Comm system, I'm sure."

John nodded. "Yeah, sometimes sounds like the wind, or wolves howling, or static. Never heard voices, though."

Aeryn shrugged. "Sometimes it can sound remarkably like muffled Sebacian. Teeg once swore she had heard a baby crying, and I could have sworn once that I had picked up voices singing." She shook her head. "It can be unnerving."

John nodded. "Okay. So what comes next?"

"Next members of the crew start hearing it in their quarters, or alone on their shift… no Comm."

John blinked. "Okay."

"Then people start getting sick."

"Sick?" John repeated, frowning. Ghost stories did not usually involve physical illness, at least not the brand he was accustomed to hearing.

Aeryn nodded. "Yes. The Doctors can never diagnose their condition, only their symptoms."

"What symptoms?"

"Dehydration, paranoia, delusions."

"Delusions?" John repeated, frowning.

Aeryn nodded. "Yes, they believe that their illness is not an illness at all, but the result of an attack by some entity." She sighed deeply. "Once it starts, it's over very quickly. Entire crews succumb within a matter of days." She pulled herself abruptly to her feet. "But this _is_ only a ghost story."

  
"What if there's a contagion in the water?" John asked softly. "Leads to hallucinations, paranoia, delusions…"

  
"Zhann has screened and cleared the water, Crichton. There is no contagion."

"And the ghosts?"

"Do _you_ believe in ghosts, Crichton? No civilized species does."

"If Sebacians don't believe in ghosts, Aeryn, why'd that story keep you up nights when you were a kid?" he breathed in her ear.

She jerked away, scowling at him. "Because children are foolish creatures!" she replied, shaking her head fiercely. "We _need_ water!"

"Is it dangerous?" John asked quietly

"Maybe. But what choice do we have?" Aeryn challenged. 

"We don't…" he sighed.

"Then there is no point in discussing it further."

"Except to be prepared if something _is_ there."

"There is nothing there, Crichton!" she snapped, stalking off of the Terrace.

"Which one of us are you trying to convince?" he shouted after her. Sighing, he shook his head and turned to regard the rippling blue surface before him. It was very beautiful, very serene. He shook his head to dispel his own sense of unease. "No such thing as ghosts…" he muttered, sitting down and watching the surface move and change. It was almost hypnotic, definitely soothing.

"John…" D'Argo's voice came over the Comm. "We'll be close enough to begin uploading water in three arns."

"Okay. Great. Let me know when it's time."

Sighing, John rested his chin on his knees and watched the sphere before him, trying to divine what it was there that was capable of scaring people like Aeryn and Zhann.

****

Okay, so what do you think? Are you curious yet as to what the real deal is with these balls of water? Should I continue with my little FS ghost story?


	3. Still Waters

****

Author's Note: Thanks all for your reviews so far. 

Author's Note 2: Al, I'm a fan of the original Trek, but I'm not familiar with the ep "The Naked Time" (or, at least, not familiar with the title). Could you drop me a line or let me know if your review again what the ep is about? Thanks… Blue

Chapter 3 -- Still Waters

"Still waters run deep…" John said quietly as he maneuvered the transport pod into position. 

Sitting next to him, Aeryn was remotely maneuvering a second, empty pod. The plan was simple: fly the empty pod well into the mass of water, depressurize it, open the doors allowing the pod to fill with water, close the doors, and tow it back to Moya, full of clean, drinkable water.

"Still waters run deep?" Aeryn repeated, snorting impatiently. "What the frell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means there's usually a lot more going on _beneath_ the surface than you might expect." John smiled at Aeryn. "Let's do this."

Pilot's voice came over the Comm. "If you insert the pod at the wrong angle and speed, Officer Sun, the sphere may well break up."

She nodded. "Understood, Pilot."

"Just like we talked about…" John said gently.

She looked up in irritation. "Shut the frell up and let me concentrate, will you?"

John smiled and held his hands up. "You _must_ be feeling better, girl, because you are as bitchy as ever…"

"Itchy?" She frowned quizzically and shook her head. "When you speak, does it make sense to you?"

John bit his lower lip and shook his head. "Just take 'er in, Aeryn. Nice and easy…"

Aeryn tuned his advice out, concentrating on her controls. Remotely piloting a transport pod was by no means an easy task. "Take us a few metras closer…" she told John when the pod stopped responding as quickly as it should have. "Right there… better." She nodded and eased the pod through the surface of the sphere. "Pilot, we're in."

"Very good, Officer Sun. Zhann has estimated that the water should contain fewer contaminants the deeper it is inside. She has recommended a minimum descent of 500 metras."

"Understood, Pilot. Descending now. What the…" She frowned as the pod moved in an entirely different direction than she had directed it. "Crichton, give me external sensors on the pod…" she ordered.

"On it…" John said quickly, jumping up and keying in the commands. "Okay. Here you… what the…"

Aeryn rose and moved next to John, staring at the image on the screen before them. "Still waters…" she repeated, shaking her head and glancing at John.

"Is that a…"

"Marauder, yes." Aeryn nodded and sharpened the resolution of the image, compensating for the refraction caused by the water. "Pilot, is the rest of the crew seeing this?" she asked softly.

"They are. They are… alarmed."

"Tell them not to be. That model's been obsolete for better than fifty cycles. It's been in here for awhile…" Aeryn inhaled deeply, reminding herself firmly that the stories were just stories. She jumped when John rested one hand on her shoulder, but made no move to shrug it off. It was strangely comforting.

"I wonder what else is buried in there?" John whispered, covering the Comm.

Aeryn nodded slowly. He was right. There could well be other defunct ships floating in there. "We need to get aboard that ship, find out what happened…"

John shook his head. "No way. This is one of those horror movie cliches I was telling you about. We do _not_ investigate the abandoned house…" He shook his head more firmly.

Aeryn sighed in disgust. "The crew of that Marauder died here, Crichton. I want to know why."

  
"I _don't_!"

"Aeryn, Crichton, can you hear me?" D'Argo's voice came over the Comm.

"Yeah, D, go ahead…" John replied, frowning at the urgency he heard in D'Argo's voice.

"Return to Moya immediately! A fleet of pirate vessels is closing in on us." 

"Frelling wonderful!" Aeryn shouted, slamming her fist into a nearby panel. "Pilot, best location for cover?" she demanded, dropping herself into the pilot's seat, cutting the other pod free, and making all speed back to Moya.

"I am afraid that the… _only_ location suitable to conceal us is… inside."

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me?" John groaned.

"They are more than capable of destroying Moya…" D'Argo announced. "We must hide. Once they have gone, we can starburst."

"_Never investigate the abandoned house!_" John yelled to no one in particular.

***

"Are they still out there?" John asked, pacing around Pilot's Den. The pirates had had the crew under siege for almost two days now and showed no signs of relenting. John was going stir-crazy, a fact not helped by the strange noises produced by the pressure of several trillion tons of water against Moya's hull.

"Yes, Commander." Pilot nodded. "As they were five minutes ago." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment.

"What?" John asked, not really wanting to know.

"Nothing, Commander. I am simply picking up a number of Comm and sensor ghosts."

"Do me a favor and don't call them that…" John asked.

Aeryn walked into the Den, dressed in an EVA suit. "As long as we're going to be here for awhile, I'm checking the Marauder. Coming?"

"Never investigate the abandoned house…" he muttered, sighing.

"Wasn't there something about investigating alone?" Aeryn asked, shaking her head. "If you are genuinely concerned about my well-being, you should not let me go alone." She shook her head and started off again, not really expecting him to follow.

"I'll need a side-arm…" he announced, following her into the room where the EVA suits were kept.

She looked up at him, impressed. He was braver than she had initially given him credit for. She picked up a pulse-pistol, checked the charge, and tossed it to him. "That suit should fit you…" she informed him, pointing to one. "Get undressed, I'll find you a helmet."

John nodded and slowly pulled off his shirt. He knew that Peacekeepers did not have issues with nudity, but there was something faintly unnerving about being casually ordered to strip by a woman you had known less than a few months. Shrugging, he dropped his pants and soon stood there in nothing but his Calvin's and an undershirt. He shivered.

"Is it cold in here?" he asked, sitting down and tugging on the suit.

Aeryn paused for a few minutes, then nodded. "Yes, it is, actually. Pilot, we're in the storage alcove to docking bay three, and I think you should get some DRDs down here to check the environmentals." She leaned against a wall as John struggled with the skin-tight suit. "Need help?" she asked levelly, impatient to go.

John looked up, startled, wondering if she were teasing or not. Slowly, cautiously, he nodded. 

Aeryn nodded sharply. "Stand up." When John complied, she grabbed two handfuls of his suit and jerked them upwards sharply, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from John. "Are you injured?" she asked, concerned.

He shook his head, not entirely trusting himself to speak right away. "I think this suit is too small for me…" he said finally.

Aeryn shook her head and tugged the suit the rest of the way on. "It's _meant_ to be skin-tight."

"My skin isn't quite this tight…" John protested as they wrestled his arms into the sleeves.

Aeryn shook her head and zipped him. These aren't environmental suits, they're EVA suits. Bulky would be a detriment. Put your pulse-pistol there…" she said, pointing to the modified holster. "It'll keep it safe from the water."

John nodded and clipped the side-arm into place. "So, this is going to be quick and dirty, right?" he asked. When Aeryn stared at him with that frown she put on when she thought he was speaking nonsense, he amended, "Surgical. In and out, _really_ quick."

Aeryn nodded. "Of course. I just want to satisfy myself as to cause of death and retrieve their logs."

  
"Why?" John asked, helping her into her helmet.

"They're my people." She snapped his helmet into place. "Besides, they may have valuable information about this sector of space, maps, trade-routes, information on the pirates…"

"And on this water-ball."

Aeryn shrugged. "Coming?" she asked.

John inhaled deeply. "For some strange reason, yes I am…"

***

"Well, we can rule out depressurization as a cause of death…" Aeryn announced, pulling off her helmet in the Marauder's docking bay. "There's no water in here and the environmentals are still working."

  
"After all these years?" he asked, cautiously pulling off his helmet. The air smelled _foul_, but not from death or decay. It was just stale. And incredibly dry.

She nodded. "It isn't uncommon. They go into backup… powersave. They only work when they need to. With everyone dead, they've just been waiting for CO2 levels to get high enough to kick on the scrubbers again. Now that we're here…" She shrugged. "Let's find the crew."

"Where would they be?" John asked.

"Depends on how they died." Aeryn started down a side corridor without hesitation. "We'll start with Command. We can download the contents of the ship's data-base while we're there."

John nodded and followed her, one hand on the butt of his pistol as they went. He let out a strangled gasp as they entered Command. Four Sebacians made their final resting-place there, three hunched over various control panels, one lying face-down on the floor.

  
"No sign of weapon's fire…" Aeryn announced after a quick look around. She stepped around the body on the floor and walked to the main console. "We can start this now, then determine cause of death."

Slowly, not quite believing what he was doing, John knelt next to the body on the floor and rolled it over. He was startled, first by how _young_ she had been, and then by how well-preserved she was. He was fairly certain that there was no way that a body could be that well-preserved without some preparation.

Aeryn moved to join him. "Completely desiccated…" she muttered, shaking her head. "That makes no sense. There would have been enough humidity in her own body to prevent…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "How did the others die?" she asked, rising and moving to the Captain's seat. "This body's the same." She pulled a knife out of the Captain's belt and began cutting away his clothes.

"What are you doing?" John demanded, his skin crawling. Desecrating the dead, lovely. Yet _another_ horror-movie cliché.

"There are no signs of injury on the body, nothing to indicate how he died." She shook her head. "He died at his post…"

  
"That means it must have been pretty quick, right?"

She shook her head. "Not necessarily. If he was the last to succumb, he would want it to be at his post. But that this girl was left on the floor… she was among the last… it was quick and no one was left to move her body. She and the Captain were the last two." She pointed to the other bodies. "They were allowed to remain at their posts, even after they had died… the Captain and the girl were too weak to move them…" She sighed deeply, thinking, piecing together in her mind what could have happened. "We should find the other bodies in the infirmary…" she announced, brushing past John and starting down another corridor, still clutching the knife firmly in her hand.

"This is… so not good…" John muttered, following. _Never _get left behind in a horror-movie.

"Yes." Aeryn nodded as they entered the infirmary. Three bodies were lying on beds, one bagged. The body of the final member of the crew was slumped over a data-recorder. "Get the recorder…" she ordered John, unzipping the body-bag.

"Is that necessary?" he asked, staring at her.

She nodded. "This man died of either dehydration or malnutrition. Possibly a combination of the two. He's been bled."

John stared, swallowing hard at the though. "They… _drank_ his blood?"

"They were dying." Aeryn zipped the bag again. "The rest of the bodies are like the ones on Command." She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. She gestured to the bag. "He died first, before they reached the water-planet. These two succumbed next, probably followed by the doctor." She pointed to the woman, still clutching her data-recorder. "With no one left to care for the ill, the rest of the crew succumbed quiet quickly, the two at their stations, then the girl and the captain."

John swallowed hard, suddenly wishing that he had not taken off his helmet. "Is this contagious?"

"After fifty-odd cycles, I doubt it. I want to get pictures of the bodies and tissue-samples for Zhann to analyze. We may be here for awhile, we need to find out what caused this, find out if we might be susceptible, find a way to prevent it…"

John nodded weakly. "Tissue samples?" he asked, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking. 

It was not the dead bodies themselves, or even the fear of contagion that bothered him. It was the fact that in the past week his life had morphed from a Star-Trek episode to a horror-movie and now they were doing everything that years of watching such movies had ingrained in him _never_ to do.

"You get the data-recorders…" Aeryn told him, annoyed by what she perceived as squeamishness. "That one, one in the Captain's personal office, two in Command." As he turned to leave, the doctor's data-recorder tucked under one arm, she added. "The Captain's office is off Command on the hetch side. Crew quarters are on the other side, but you don't need anything there. I'll meet you on Command."

John nodded and quickly left Aeryn to her work. As much as he did not think getting separated was a good idea, he did not want any part of cutting up bodies dead of some unidentified cause. "Maybe it's vampires…" he muttered as he retrieved the data-recorder from the Captain's office. 

He immediately wished that he had kept his mouth shut, since he next had to go into a room with four dead people in it. He had to move the Captain and one of the others to retrieve the recorders. He crouched near a door, his back to the wall, to wait for Aeryn, but his gaze was drawn repeatedly to the young girl on the floor. Piling the recorders, he walked over to her and crouched next to her. She could not have been more than seventeen, if that, and her face was frozen in an expression of terror. None of the others had that expression, instead sporting looks of agony. But this girl… she had been horrified.

__

She saw her attacker… The though forced its way unbidden into his mind, and, as if that was not bad enough, he could have sworn that he heard a young girl whispering and giggling from a nearby corridor.

"Oh, jeez…" he muttered, backing into a wall and pulling out his side-arm. He held the barrel against his lips, his eyes darting around the room. "You're going to take good care of me, right, baby?" he whispered to the pulse-pistol.

  
"Who are you talking to?" Aeryn demanded, walking onto Command with a storage-container of some sort in one hand.

"My gun…"

"Mmm-hmm…" Aeryn nodded slowly. "Why don't you just put it away now, John…" she suggested gently. "You're just a little spooked."

"I heard voices…" he told her.

"You heard the ship settling…" Aeryn informed him flatly.

"Look at her face…" John said, pointing.

Aeryn glanced down at it. "Yes, so?"

"She was scared."

"Stands to reason if she was the last to die. She was too young for a deep-space mission anyway."

"No one else looked scared. She was scared."

"Chricton, you need to relax. You're getting jumpy."

"Just a bit, yeah." He nodded impassively. "And you aren't?"

Aeryn ignored him. "Get the recorders and let's get back to Moya."

"With frelling pleasure." John quickly took up the recorders and followed Aeryn back to the docking bay.


	4. Ghosts of the Past

****

Chapter 4 -- Ghosts of the Past

"Okay, you get the recordings up yet?" John asked Aeryn.

"One of them, yes. The others have been damaged. It could take more time."

"Time we've got right now, thanks to the pirates. Let's see what they have to tell us."

Aeryn nodded and activated the recorder. "This is the medical officer's log. The first few entries are routine, vaccination reports, scrapes and bruises, a plasma burn… This is where it starts to get interesting." Aeryn turned on the recorder.

A gaunt, tired-looking woman appeared on the screen. "Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 89. Lieutenant Drake died this morning. Primary cause of death is dehydration associated with prolonged fluid deprivation. Harvest yielded six units whole blood which I am hopeful may sustain the rest of the crew until we reach the planetoid."

"What does that mean, 'primary cause of death'?" John asked.

Aeryn turned off the recorder. In honesty, she knew that once it had become apparent that Drake was irretrievable he had probably been given mercy. She also knew that John would react negatively to the revelation, and, for some reason, she found it mattering to her. "Secondary cause of death was probably malnutrition…" she lied easily. "They could well have been out of food."

John nodded. "Okay. Next entry?"

" Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 92. The planetoid proved to be one of the mythical 'water-planets' as Ensign Kelsey had contended. We are now uploading." There was a jump in the tape and Wynn appeared again. "As the result of an attack by a Scarran patrol, we have been forced to take refuge _inside_ the water-planet, over Ensign Kelsey's protests. Injuries from the attack were minor and include…" Wynn began reeling off a list of injuries that consisted mostly of cuts and bruises.

Aeryn punched a few buttons on the recorder, fast-forwarding.

"Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 93. The increased water-allotment is having its effect and all crewmen have now returned to a normal level of hydration." 

"_This_ is where it starts getting strange…" Aeryn told John quietly, pausing the recording. "I don't think we should make the others aware of this…"

John stared at her, startled. "That doesn't sound good. What's going on?"

"Watch…" Aeryn told him, at a loss for words to explain. 

"Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 94. Two crewmen reported for sick-call this morning. Ensign Kelsey requested and received an anti-anxiety injection after reporting that the Comm-ghosts that are now flooding our system 'unnerved' her. My medical opinion is that, despite her promising performance at the Academy, she is not yet sufficiently mature or stable for extended missions outside of the stable environment of a Command Carrier or base."

"Comm ghosts?" John repeated, glancing at Aeryn. "Voices…"

Aeryn nodded tersely. "Yes. There's more. Watch."

"Lieutenant Arina's case is more complex. He reports fatigue, headache, and dizziness, as well as a general sense of disquiet. Testing revealed him to be badly dehydrated in spite of the current abundance of available fluid. Arina reports that he _has_ been drinking his daily allotment, which makes his case paradoxical, especially in light of the fact that, yesterday, he tested as fully hydrated. Pathology and toxicology scans read normal. Arina will be kept in the sick-bay overnight for intravenous rehydration and observation."

Aeryn paused the recording again, shaking her head. "Sound familiar to you, Crichton?"

"People hearing voices, people getting dehydrated for no good reason…" He felt his skin crawling. "Aeryn, this is _not_ good. This is…"

"Don't say it…" she said softly, shaking her head. As long as neither of them mentioned the story she had told him out loud, she could pretend that things had not unfolded exactly that way on that Marauder. She rose "I've already seen the rest. I'm going to go get a drink and something to eat." 

"Yeah." John nodded. "Do I want to watch the rest?" he asked, badly suspecting that he did not. "After all, I kind of know how it ends."

Aeryn shook her head, hoping that he would not. There was no need for anyone else to get as spooked as she was. "Whether you do or not, do _not_ allow the others to see this. It will only upset them." Shaking her head, she left the bay.

John stared after her for a moment before turning the recorder back on. As much of a horror-movie cliché as it was, he _had_ to know what had happened over there.

" Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 95. Arina is once again in good health and returned to his duties this morning. Kelsey was at sick-call again today. She received another anxiety shot and oral night-time sedation. I will continue to monitor her situation closely." There was another jump and Wynn appeared again, looking more drawn and harried than she had the first time. "Commander Marus reported to the sick-bay after lunch, presenting with the same symptoms that Arina displayed yesterday. In addition to the headache, dizziness, and fatigue that Arina suffered, Marus reports disorientation. The Commander further states that he passed out, and claims that he saw an intruder aboard the ship shortly before he did. Security reports no intruder, leading me to suppose that he imagined this while unconscious. As Arina's treatment proved effective, the same protocol will be employed with Marus."

John turned the recorder off for a few moments before continuing. This was Aeryn's ghost-story unfolding before him, almost as if she had made it up after seeing these reports. If the ship had not been untouched, he would have assumed that the ghost-story had originally derived from this event, this crew. Not really wanting to, but feeling that he _had _to, he continued.

With the next entry, Wynn looked fairly sick herself. It was obvious that she had not slept recently, and her lips were dry and cracked, suggesting dehydration. "Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 96. Arina is ill again, his symptoms identical to those of the previous illness. Marus had seemed to be recovering yesterday, but his symptoms worsened overnight. Kelsey is now ill with the same affliction and has requested oral stimulants. She seems to be suffering from acute paranoia as well. Lieutenants Sage and Tarn are also ill with the same condition, as am I. Given the hostile nature of this area of space, Captain Jax has decided that we will remain securely hidden within the water-planet until such time as our crew has recovered from this illness."

Wynn looked even worse for the next entry. " Doctor Eijan Wynn, medical officer. Day 97. Sage is dead. Cause of death is rapid-onset dehydration, inconsistent with anything I have ever seen. Time of death from onset of symptoms is less that 40 arns. Dehydration is _total_. There is no fluid to be found _anywhere_ in his body. It appears that he has been desiccated post-mortem, but this desiccation is undeniably the cause of death. I am unaware of any pathogen that could cause such a rapid and complete dehydration in a Sebacian. Tests for infectious factors and toxins continue to come back negative on all crewmen. Captain Jax is now ill as well. Marus has recovered and is assuming command until Jax is again able to discharge his duties. Arina and Kelsey have recovered. Tarn is worse."

The entries continued on like that for four more days. IV hydration was a stop-gap measure that eliminated the symptoms, but the symptoms always returned within a day or so, no matter how much water the crew was forced to drink. Tarn was the next to succumb, but only after he had recovered and gotten ill again. Kelsey's paranoia had spread to Jax and Arina as well, and all three were regularly taking large doses of stimulants. The entries ended abruptly after another report in which Marus had, once again, been released to return to his duties. 

Recalling that they had found Wynn hunched over her recorder, John suspected that she had died shortly after recording that report. Replaying the last entry and seeing the haunted look in her over-large eyes, John thought that she had probably known that she was dying when she recorded it. He lowered his head onto the work-table, sighing deeply. It was unsettling enough to _watch_ the thing without having to wonder if your crew was going to be next. He was suddenly less than sure if he wanted to view the contents of the other recorders.

He had, less than a week ago, made a comment about dying of thirst in sight of the oasis, as if that were the worst possible fate. Now he knew he had been wrong. That crew, that little girl, had died of dehydration _surrounded_ by drinkable water. Ostensibly drinkable water, he corrected himself, shaking his head. The symptoms had started days after they had arrived, days after they had begun to recover. Or _seemed_ to recover. Whatever this was, there was only one explanation that made sense to him.

"Must be something in the water…" he muttered, rising and going to find Aeryn.

***

"I don't know what to make of it, Aeryn…" Zhann told her quietly. She had examined the pictures and the tissue-samples exhaustively and had come up blank. "What do the logs say?"

Aeryn shook her head. "They say that, whatever this is, we do _not_ want to become infected with it." She paused for a moment. "Zhann, you _must_ figure out what this contagion is before it affects us."

"You think we're in danger then?"

Aeryn nodded. "Pilot reports not fewer than ten ships, floating dead in here. He also reports that Moya's symptoms are not correcting themselves as quickly as they should be given the fact that she is immersed in water." She sighed. "Crichton is _certain_ that there is something in the water, a… a parasite, perhaps. Now I know he has no training in these matters, Zhann, but I think he might be right."

"I'll scan the water again…" Zhann sighed, nodding. As Aeryn turned to leave, she called, "But, in the meantime…"

Aeryn paused, closing her eyes. "Do we drink it or not?" she muttered softly, shaking her head. "Do we have another choice?"

"Not that I can see." Zhann sighed deeply.

Aeryn nodded. "Then we drink. _Sparingly_. And we monitor ourselves for symptoms."

"And what do we do if we develop symptoms?" Zhann asked gently.

"Get back to me on that." Shaking her head, Aeryn left.

John was waiting right outside. "Well?"

  
"Well, what?" she asked, ignoring him and walking on.

"Well, is the water safe?"

"Who knows…" Aeryn replied, shaking her head. "I don't, you don't, _Zhann_ doesn't. So we work on the assumption that it is until we find evidence to tell us that it isn't."

"Doesn't this bother you at all?" John demanded, catching her arm.

  
Aeryn spun on him, glaring at him as she freed her arm. "Doesn't _what_ bother me?" she asked in a low voice. If she had been with her old crew on the Command Carrier, anyone who heard that tone of voice coming out of her mouth would have known enough to remain silent. Crichton, though, lacked a certain degree of insight.

"Doesn't it bother you, Aeryn, that your little _ghost-story_ unfolded in real-time aboard that Marauder?" John hissed. He fell silent as Chiana walked past.

"Everything okay?" the Nebari asked uncertainly as she watched John and Aeryn glaring at each other. Aeryn looked ready to deck John, and John, oddly enough, looked about ready to do the same to Aeryn. Something was going on with them.

John forced a smile. "Everything's just _swell_, Chiana…" he assured her, doing his best to sound cheerful. 

"Right." Chiana nodded, frowning to herself. "Bye." Smiling nervously and nodding at each of them, she left quickly. Oh, yeah, something was _definitely_ going on with those two.

"Great…" John sighed.

Aeryn sighed as well. "Look…" she told John softly. "I'm not saying that there's no contagion in the water. All I'm saying is that contagions _can_ be dealt with. Right?" She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look, but the truth was that she could have used some reassurance of her own. "There's no such thing as ghosts or monsters, no evidence that anything attacked the crew--"

"Except that the people who believed that, who took steps to avoid it, they lasted the longest…" John pointed out. "Jax, Arina, _Kelsey_…"

Aeryn frowned and started to shake her head. 

"You _told_ me that they were the last to die, them and Marus, right? Marus, _then_ the other. Arina, Kelsey, and Jax were _last_, Aeryn."

"Proving nothing. Are you sure _you_ aren't starting to suffer from a bit of paranoia, Crichton? Could be something in the water…" She smiled bitterly.

"You mocking me, Aeryn? 'Cause that's pretty funny coming from a girl who's losing sleep over ghost-stories." He shook his head.

Aeryn clenched her fists against her legs, ignoring the urge to smack him. Glaring at him for a few more moments, she spun on her heel and stalked off, muttering under her breath.

***

"Oh, there is _definitely _something going on with them…" Chiana told Rygel softly, looking around to make sure they were alone in the corridor.

"What else is new?" Rygel asked.

"They're keeping something from us, something they found on that Marauder."

"What possible reason could they have for doing _that_?" Rygel scoffed. 

"They're scared…" Chiana told him. "Horrified."

"Nonsense. Crichton _might_ be scared of _something_, but Peacekeepers don't have the good sense to experience fear."

"I'm telling you, Rygel…" Chiana shook her head. "Aeryn was _scared_. Saw it in her eyes." She nodded firmly.

  
Rygel frowned. "What scares a Peacekeeper?" he asked quietly.

"Don't know. Not sure I _want_ to." Chiana shook her head. "Something big. Something bad." She paused and admitted, "Don't like it here any more. We should leave."

"The ship?"

Chiana shook her head. "This ball of water. It's bad news, has to be or Aeryn wouldn't be freaked."

"We _can't_ leave…" Rygel pointed out. "Pirates."

"_Frell_ the pirates!" Chiana shook her head firmly. "This is worse."

"You don't even know what _this_ is…" Rygel pointed out.

"Don't have to to know that it's bad. We're frelling _trapped_ down here…" She shook her head, pacing. "And have you_ heard_ the noises that this ship has been making? It's not normal."

"The noises are from several trillion tons of water against the hull…" Rygel told her, mostly to avoid having to admit that they _did_ spook him from time to time.

"And is the water what's causing _this_?" Chiana demanded, tapping on her Comm. The room was flooded with what sounded like a dozen ghostly whispers, emanating from the Comm. "Comm-ghosts my eema, Rygel!"

"Turn it _off_!" Rygel snapped, covering his ears.

Chiana complied quickly, more than glad for the excuse. The sounds were unsettling to say the least, the more so because she had heard more than one tale of supernatural happenings presaged by such Comm-ghosts and strange sounds about the ship. She was not _exactly_ superstitious, but she was pragmatic enough to know that there was more in space than anyone ever had or ever would dream of. The fact that no one had ever heard of or believed in something did not make it any less real. Stories of her own people were told in barely-believed whispers in some parts of the Uncharted Territories. 

"You're seeing things that aren't there…" Rygel told her. "Getting paranoid."

"They brought back data-recorders from the Marauder. They didn't start getting like this until after they viewed one…" she told him. "Whatever they're hiding, we'll find it there."

Rygel considered this, his interest piqued. Always up for a challenge, he nodded. "Let's see if we can't get our hands on one of these recorders, hmm?"

Chiana nodded, smiling. "I like you, froggy. You think like me."

  
Rygel smiled and nodded. "_Now_, how to get one without Aeryn or Crichton knowing?" he inquired as they settled down and began planning.

***

"Contagion, Zhann?" D'Argo repeated skeptically.

"Mmm hmm." She nodded. "Aeryn and John both believe so. The death of the Marauder crew and the other dead ships here seem to bear out their belief."

D'Argo nodded slowly. "Are we in danger?"

"I honestly can't say yet." She shook her head apologetically. "In truth, though, I know of no contagion that could cause this manner of death."

"You suspect something else?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know enough yet, D'Argo, to suspect _anything_ reasonably. It could be anything. A disease, a parasite, a poison of some sort, a _weapon_ even… I just don't know."

D'Argo sighed and nodded. Life had once been so simple. Now, though, nothing was simple, least of all this newest, bizarre situation. "The symptoms?"

"Dehydration, weakness, headache, disorientation, paranoia…"

D'Argo nodded slowly. "Paranoia? You mean… more paranoid than we have all already become?"

Zhann sighed and nodded, closing her eyes. "Yes, wise D'Argo. I suppose that is precisely what I mean."


	5. Jumping at Shadows

****

Chapter 5 -- Jumping at Shadows

"Aeryn, where's Wynn's recorder?" John asked, frowning. "I can't find it."

"What do you want with it? We've already watched it _four _frelling times…" she pointed out.

John sighed and nodded. "You're right. It's getting late. Why don't you go get some rest?"

"Why don't _you_?" she challenged. 

"I want to finish watching Kelsey's reports."

"Like you aren't paranoid enough already?" Aeryn demanded, shaking her head. "Crichton…"

"Aeryn, until you can honestly tell me that you aren't even a little bit worried, that's the pot calling the kettle black, okay?"

"Whatever." She shook her head, not understanding one word of the last part, but suspecting that it was not complimentary.

"Aeryn, have you watched this?" John asked. "That girl is _terrified_!"

"Paranoid, Crichton, the word you are looking for is _paranoid_. She was delusional; it was in Wynn's reports."

He sighed and shook his head. "Jax, Kelsey, and Arina, Aeryn. Wynn called all three paranoid and delusional, but they _were_ the last to die."

"Coincidence."

"Arina was the first to get sick, Aeryn, but was one of the last to die. Why?"

She shook her head, frustrated. "We'll talk in the morning." Shaking her head, she left.

John sighed and rose, hitting his Comm. "Zhann, you got a minute?"

"Of course, John."

"Cool. Where are you?"

"Still analyzing the samples."

"Great. Be right down." John turned off his Comm before the dead-air could be filled with the Comm-ghosts that were growing increasingly troubling not just to him but to the entire crew. Sighing, he walked down to Zhann's workshop. "Hey, Blue!"

She smiled up at him. "Hello, John. What can I do for you?"

"I need, um… something."

Zhann smiled. "Can you be more specific?" she inquired gently.

"Yeah, like a stimulant or something. Gonna be working late, don't want to fall asleep before I'm done. Hook a guy up?"

"Of course, John." Zhann rummaged around in a drawer for a few moments before holding up a bottle filled with silvery fluid. "A few drops in each eye should suffice…" she told him with a smile.

"Thanks, Zhann." He took the bottle with a smile. "Appreciate it."

"John?" Zhann called after him as he turned to go.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning to face her again.

"I believe that Aeryn is worried about you. She says that you are becoming paranoid." Zhann paused. "She said she found you talking to a pulse-pistol…"

"You believe in ghosts, Zhann?" John asked abruptly.

"As a priestess, I believe in many things, John. Some are natural, many more are not. Why?"

  
"Because Aeryn's ghost-story _happened_ down there, Zhann, and the ones who believed in it survived the longest." 

Zhann regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "Then you plan on depriving yourself of sleep until we leave this place?"

"That's the plan…" John told her, nodding.

Zhann considered this for a moment. Finally, she told him, "If humans are like Sebacians in that respect, it is not healthy to deprive one of sleep for more than two or three days."

He nodded. "Thanks for the head's up. Hopefully we'll be out of here by then."

Zhann nodded absently and watched him go. In her mind, the whole situation was distinctly unsettling. It would, perhaps, be not unwise to follow John's lead in not sleeping too soundly tonight. It was also well past the time when the others should have been told what was happening. Or, at least, what some people seemed to _suspect_ was happening. With a deep sigh, she went to find D'Argo.

***

If John had been on Earth at the time, he would immediately have drawn parallels between Kelsey's last few recordings and the last reel of 'The Blair Witch Project'. She leaned too close to the recorder so that only about half of her face was caught in the frame. Her voice alternated between hushed and anxious whispers and frantic shouts, and she was visibly crying in more than one of the recordings. Jumpy as well, in every single one, flinching every time there was a sound or someone walked past her station.

The last few were chilling. 

"Ensign Kelsey, communication's officer. Day 100. Captain Jax ordered today that we leave this accursed place, but we can not. The engines are dead. I suspect sabotage, but not at the hands of any member of this crew. Arina and the Captain believe me now. Wynn and Marus remain stubborn in their denials. We are floating dead in more since than one. It will not be long now."

"Ensign Kelsey, communication's officer. Day 101. Wynn is dead now, too…" In this entry, the girl spoke in a whisper and kept glancing over her shoulder. "It was the same as with the others. We think she fell asleep after she made her last report. Marus believes now, but I think it's too late for him." Her voice dropped even lower as she added, "I think it's too late for all of us." With another look over her shoulder, she added, "We are _not_ alone here. Of this I am certain." She looked up as someone called her name, ending the recording.

In the next recording, her eyes were wide, frantic, her voice shrill and near hysteria. It was obvious that she had not slept in days, even more obvious that she was heavily dosed with some stimulant or other. Her words came out quickly, almost blending in to one another, and her eyes darted about rapidly, refusing to remain still. 

"Ensign Kelsey, communication's officer. Day 102. We've all seen it now, lurking in the shadows, _waiting_ for us to let our guard down. Arina took a shot at it, but since we didn't find a body, we assume he missed. It killed Marus last night. We found him dead at his post. We're all too weak now to move him. Feels like an eternity since any of us slept. We can't even take turns, we're too scared of what might happen. The Captain says that he must have fallen asleep for a few moments in spite of the stimulants and that's when it struck. Arina got more stimulant from the infirmary, but we're running out fast. When it is gone, so are we."

In the next entry, she no longer seemed so frenetic. She had trouble keeping her eyes opened and her voice was slow and sluggish, as though she was fighting to stay awake. She did not even bother with the standard preamble of name, rank, and position. "Day 100… um, no, um… 104, I think. No entry yesterday, nothing new to report then. Today, though… Arina is dead and the Captain and I are out of stimulants. I… we… we _saw_ it take Arina, and by the grace of the gods the Captain and I will _not_ live long enough for it to take us as well." She looked down at a piece of paper in her hands, reading from it. "This is to be my last entry, a factual report of all that has transpired since we--" she trailed off at the sound of an agonized shout. "Sir!" she yelled, dropping the paper and moving out of frame. There was a horrified scream, followed by a thud and then silence before the recorder shut itself off.

John inhaled deeply, staring at the blank screen in horror. "Not good…" he whispered, rising and tucking the recorder under his arm. Aeryn and the others _had_ to see this.

***

"And _when_ exactly were you planning on sharing this with the rest of us?" Rygel demanded of John and Aeryn.

The crew had gathered in Pilot's den to discuss things. 

"We did not want to alarm anyone until we had some clear idea--" Aeryn began.

"Frell that!" Chiana snapped. "You just didn't want to admit that you were scared."

"People!" John shouted. "Can we _focus_? Right now we have _way_ bigger problems than what should or should not have been said!"

"Whatever this creature was, we have no proof that it's still alive…" Aeryn pointed out. "_Or_ still here."

"Right… Is that why you're both armed?" Rygel asked. He pointed to the pulse-pistol in John's leg-holster. "That one _never_ carries a weapon."

"I do now…" John told him. "Maybe _you_ should start doing the same, Sparky."

"We should _all_ start carrying weapons…" D'Argo announced, nodding his approval of John's suggestion.

"Works for me…" Chiana replied, nodding firmly. "If there's some monster or alien running around the ship, I want protection."

"I think not." Aeryn shook her head firmly. "You people are nervous, paranoid, jumping at frelling _shadows_ and you want me to hand you all deadly weapons? No."

"Well, I'm not giving _my_ pulse-pistol up…" John said firmly.

"He gets one, I get one…" Chiana announced.

Aeryn sighed. "Zhann, you're usually the voice of reason. What do you have to say about all this?"

The rest of the crew fell silent to see what the Delvian had to say. All of them, even Chiana and Rygel, respected her opinion and the kind of wisdom that can only come with over 800 years of life.

She slowly shook her head. "I don't really know _what_ to make of this situation at present, Aeryn." She looked slowly around the den, at each member of the crew. "Has anyone seen anything odd? Has anyone seen an intruder aboard the ship? Pilot? Have the DRDs seen anything?"

Pilot spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "They have not, Zhann, but they can not be everywhere at once."

Zhann nodded. "Anyone else?"

"Well, I haven't _seen_ anything…" Chiana began. "But we've all _heard_--"

"Comm-ghosts?" Aeryn scoffed. "Please, Chiana!"

Zhann gently held up one hand. "Let the child speak, Aeryn." When Aeryn deferred, Zhann looked at Chiana again. "Go ahead, child."

"Look, I've spent a _lot_ of time in space, and I have_ never_ heard Comm-ghosts that sound like these." She paused for a moment, shifting uncomfortably. "But it's not just over the Comms any more. Sometimes at night, alone in my quarters…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Never mind."

"I've heard it, too, Chi…" John said softly. "In my room last night, alone in corridors today…"

D'Argo nodded. "Voices. I've heard them as well."

"You're hearing the ship settling!" Aeryn snapped. "You can't all actually _believe_ this nonsense!" 

John stared at her and spoke in a low voice. "Will anyone who has _not_ heard the voices please raise their hand." When Aeryn failed to put her own hand up, he nodded. "That's what I thought."

"There's no such thing as ghosts!" Aeryn announced firmly.

"Well, maybe it's not a ghost…" John suggested. "Maybe it's a critter." 

"_Maybe_ it's a mass-hallucination…" Aeryn suggested, shaking her head.

John shook his head. "I've got eight dead Peacekeepers who'd probably tell you that it's no hallucination, Aeryn. Not to mention about ten _other_ ships full of dead people who would probably be willing to attest to the same thing!" 

"A little discretion never hurt anyone…" Zhann said softly. "It won't do any harm for us to be cautious."

"_Cautious?_" Aeryn scoffed. "And how _does_ one arm one's self against a ghost, priestess?"

Zhann ignored the question.

"We should leave here…" Chiana contributed. "Now."

"I'm afraid that will not be possible…" Pilot announced apologetically. 

"_What?_" several voices demanded at once.

"There seems to be a.. problem with Moya's main propulsion systems."

"So use the backups…" D'Argo suggested, shaking his head.

Pilot's tone was apologetic. "They _also_ seem to be malfunctioning, Ka D'Argo."

John's voice was a whisper, but his words carried clearly around the silent room. "The Marauder's engines had been sabotaged."

The room was suddenly filled with frantic, shouting people, all trying to make themselves heard, none listening to a single word of what the others were saying. Chiana and Rygel were panicked, D'Argo furious. John and Pilot were loudly urging everyone to just calm down, which only added to the general sense of confusion. Aeryn, shouting over _all_ of them, was trying to deliver the same message as John and Pilot, but was only managing to drown them out. 

Only Zhann remained aloof, her face bearing a troubled, thoughtful expression. Finally, satisfied that they had spent enough time venting their feelings, she leaned over Pilot's console and made a quiet request. A loud, shrill tone filled the air, quieting everyone.

"Thank you, Pilot…" Zhann said softly before turning to the others. "This is _not_ the time for panic. _Or_ recriminations…" she added, noting that Chiana and Rygel were once again glaring at John and Aeryn. "If this problem is to be solved, we are going to have to remain reasonably calm and approach it exactly as we would approach _any_ problem in need of a solution."

John nodded. "She's right. We stay calm, we take this one step at a time, and we get out of here alive."

Chiana nodded. "Good plan."

John smiled at her. "Step one should probably be seeing what's wrong with propulsion. Pilot?"

"The DRDs are still searching for the cause of the malfunction."

John nodded. "Okay. Step two, obviously, is to _fix_ the engines and then step three is to get the hell out of Dodge."

"No." Aeryn shook her head.

John sighed, exasperated. "Look, Aeryn. I _know_ that you want to pretend that you aren't as scared as the rest of us, but--"

"No…" she repeated more firmly. "You're forgetting something."

John frowned, trying to figure out what he could have forgotten. Finally, he shook his head. "What am I missing?" he asked, curious.

"If the engines _have_, in fact, been sabotaged, then this… _creature_ is already on board. Even if we fly out of here, it will _still_ be on board."

John nodded. It was not lost on him that Aeryn was no longer bothering to deny the existence of whatever had killed those people. She was scared. He could hardly blame her.

"Good point, Aeryn…" he sighed, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. "We're going to have to find it."

Aeryn nodded. "Yes." 

"I think we need to rethink our priorities…" D'Argo suggested quietly.

Chiana nodded in agreement. "Step one, find the monster."

Rygel smiled. "Step two, _kill_ the monster."

Chiana grinned. "Step three, take our sweet time fixing the engines."

John nodded. "We should pair up, start sweeping the ship. Pilot can you spare us some DRDs?"

"Of course."

"Cool. Pip, you're with me. Aeryn can take Rygel, and D'Argo can have Zhann."

Aeryn nodded in agreement. "Rygel and I will take the lower levels."

"D'Argo and I can take the upper levels…" Zhann offered.

John nodded. "And Chi and I will take the middle levels. Lock and load. Let's do this thing."

"Crichton?" Aeryn asked as he started to leave with Chiana. "I need a private word with you."

He nodded. "Chi, Rygel, wait here…" he called over his shoulder as he followed Aeryn out of Pilot's den.

  
Alone in the corridor, Aeryn shifted uncomfortably, thinking before she spoke. "Have you… considered--"

"That there might be more than one of these critters, yeah." John nodded. "But I figured that the others were uptight enough already without my pointing it out."

Aeryn nodded. "Still, they are not stupid. None of them." She shook her head. "They _will _reach this conclusion themselves eventually." 

He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall for a moment. "I know. But in the meantime…"

Aeryn nodded. "These people are scared enough already without us adding to it."

He nodded. "Okay. Let's get started."

Aeryn nodded firmly, checking the charge on her pulse-pistol. "How's yours? Enough chakan oil?"

John nodded. "Yeah. Got an extra clip?"

She nodded. "You?"

"You bet." He nodded. "Let's go critter-hunting, Aeryn."


	6. Chasing Mirages

****

Chapter 6 -- Chasing Mirages 

"You've been around the block a few times, Chi…" John remarked as they searched. "You ever heard of a critter that can do this? Or a weapon, maybe?"

"Nah." She shook her head. "This is… never heard of _anything _like this before."

"You scared?" John asked. 

"Yeah. You?"

"Scared soul-less, Chi."

She grinned. "Guess I'm in good company, then."

"You and everyone else on this boat."

  
She nodded. "What do you think it looks like?"

He shrugged. "Twelve feet tall, sharp claws, fangs…" He trailed off abruptly and stopped walking, frowning.

  
"What?" she asked, frowning at him. "What is it?"

"Vampire. It's a vampire." He laughed shrilly, shaking his head. "A frelling _vampire_ in outer space. Oh, my God, that is _too_ funny!"

Chiana stared at him in confusion as he leaned against a wall, laughing hysterically. "What?" she repeated, shaking her head. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, wiping away tears and struggling to control his mirth. "My species, my planet, we have this myth about these creatures called vampires. They, um, bite your neck and drink your blood. Usually you have to be bitten more than once to die…" He shook his head. "I think this thing is some kind of vampire, but instead of sucking blood, it sucks moisture."

"Until you're left bone-dry." Chiana nodded. "Interesting theory. How do you kill one?"

"You take a sharp, wooden stake and you drive it through their heart. Most say that sunlight will kill them, too."

"Hmm… Stick in the heart, huh?"

John nodded. "Or so the stories go."

"Wouldn't happen to have any sticks on hand?" she asked, grinning.

John laughed and shook his head. "Ten to one, a pulse-pistol _will_ do the trick." He patted her arm. "Come on. Let's keep looking."

***

"Have you ever heard of anything even remotely similar to this?" D'Argo asked Zhann as they scanned the bay.

"No." She shook her head. "Which does not mean much. There is more planetside and in the heavens than can be dreamt of in our philosophy."

D'Argo nodded. He supposed she was right, but it would have been comforting to have some clear idea of what they were up against.

"Does it trouble you, D'Argo? Facing an opponent of whom you know nothing?"

He nodded. "The knowledge of your opponent's strengths and weaknesses is a _great_ asset. Its importance can _not_ be over-emphasized."

She nodded. "Wise words."

"We know _nothing_ of this enemy, and that puts us at a serious disadvantage."

"Yes, it does." Zhann nodded again. "All we have left to ourselves is martial skill and faith."

"I'll provide the skill…" D'Argo told her. "_You_ provide the faith."

Zhann smiled warmly at him. "A fair distribution of the labor, I think."

D'Argo smiled back, nodding. "Until I met you, I thought of all priests as old men, decrepit and half-senile."

Zhann laughed. The bay was empty, so they moved on. "And until I met you, I thought all Luxans to be harsh and brutal creatures."

"And now you know it for a fact…" he joked, nodding.

Zhann laughed. "So, now that you _have_ met me, have you revised your opinion of men and women of faith?"

D'Argo nodded. 

"Tell me."

"They are… complex creatures, _not_ to be underestimated. Their faith is anything but blind, and they are _not _to be crossed." He smiled at her. "Shall I go on?"

"By all means." Zhann smiled at him. "I'm enjoying this."

"They are passionate creatures…" He trailed off, blushing slightly. It had not been what he had intended to say, and there was definitely a chance of it being taken the wrong way.

Zhann turned to face him, smiling serenely. "Yes, Ka D'Argo. We _are_." After a brief pause, she shook her head. "Let's keep searching."

D'Argo stared after her, feeling a little flustered. There had been a knowing look in her eye, almost inviting. Shaking his head, he followed. 

"Do you hear something?" he asked Zhann.

"I thought I did a moment ago, but no longer."

"Hmm." D'Argo shrugged. "Let's keep searching."

***

Aeryn glanced at Rygel as they searched. "Thank you…" she said finally.

He scowled at her. "What for?"

"The water. When I was sick."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He straightened, doing his best to look dignified. 

"If you say so." Aeryn shook her head. She paused as they neared another duct. She waited a moment. "Come on, Rygel. In you go."

"_I_ went in the last one. _You_ can have this one."

  
Aeryn sighed and shook her head, irritated. "Fine. Back me up." 

She handed him her pulse-pistol and dropped to her knees, removing the panel covering the duct. Shaking her head, she dropped to her stomach and shimmied inside. Once inside, she rose, shining her light around. She heard, faintly, what sounded very much like a child crying.

"Rygel, you hear that?" she called.

"Hear _what_? The only thing I hear is my stomachs pointing out that we're overdue for the mid-day meal." 

She sighed in irritation. "Hand me my pulse-pistol. I want to check."

"Suit yourself." 

The pistol came skittering into the duct and Aeryn grabbed it, raising it and starting forward.

***

"Did you see that?" Chiana asked, grabbing John's arm and pointing to the dark form that was just ducking out of sight.

John pulled out his pulse-pistol and took off after it at a run, Chiana close on his heels. The intruder seemed aware that it was being followed, and put on an extra burst of speed. Determined not to lose it, John sped up as well, unaware that Chiana was rapidly falling behind.

Rounding a corner, he stopped abruptly, aware that he had caught his quarry. Or, more accurately, walked into an ambush. Looking at the creature before him, he felt as if he had rounded the corner and walked straight into the movie The Abyss. While humanoid in shape, the creature appeared to be little more than a mass of water. With a nervous smile and a little wave, he took a cautious step backwards. The creature lunged at him, and he felt a split-second of agonizing pain before darkness overtook him. 

Chiana heard an agonized scream, heard a pulse-pistol going off, heard what sounded like a splash of water, and then heard a sound that could only be a body hitting the floor.

"John!" she shouted, rounding the corner and dropping to her knees by his side. He was lying face-down in a small puddle of water. She tapped on her Comm. "Zhann, I need you down here _now_! Something's happened to John."

"We're on our way…" came the reply.

Chiana turned off her Comm and bent over John, shaking him. "Come on. Wake up. Please…"

Weakly, "Did you see it?"

"No. What happened."

"Big guy, like… D'Argo's size. I think he was made out of water. Oh, God, am I lying in a puddle of him?" John demanded, horrified at the prospect.

"Did you kill it?"

"No…" he groaned. "Hit it in the arm. Arm went splash." He closed his eyes.

"Oh no you don't…" Chiana told him, giving him a rough shake. "You… you stay with me until Zhann gets here, okay."

"Five more minutes…" he moaned, trying to brush her hand away.

"What the frell happened here?" D'Argo demanded as he and Zhann rounded the corner.

As Zhann bent over John, Chiana quickly filled D'Argo in as well as she could based on John's sketchy details.

  
"I'll need a sample of this water…" Zhann announced. "D'Argo, can you carry John to the infirmary for me?"

D'Argo nodded and lifted the surprisingly light human into his arms as Zhann quickly collected a sample.

***

Zhann was too busy, D'Argo and Chiana too upset, to think of informing the others of what had happened. Unaware of the drama that had unfolded beneath her feet a quarter of an arn ago, Aeryn cautiously approached the source of the noise, her pulse-pistol drawn and ready. She rounded a corner into a large ion-backwash chamber and nearly dropped the side-arm in her surprise.

A little Sebacian girl, not more than eight cycles old, stood alone in the room, looking forlorn and crying softly. She looked up at Aeryn with wide eyes and took a short step backwards.

Aeryn quickly put the pulse-pistol away. "Oh, no, it's okay, sweet. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." She smiled reassuringly and dropped to her knees in front of the child, brushing away tears and smoothing back her hair. "How did you get here?"

"On my mommy and daddy's transport. They're dead now and I'm _so_ lonely."

"Oh…" Aeryn frowned sympathetically. "Well, you aren't alone any more, right?"

The girl's expression brightened. "Will you stay with me forever?"

"Well, forever is a _very_ long time…" Aeryn began. She stopped suddenly, frowning. "How did you get aboard _this_ ship, child?"

The girl pointed to a hatch that Aeryn knew opened to the exterior of the ship. Aeryn shook her head, frowning and trying to make sense of that. If John had been with her, he could have pointed out that, in horror-movies, the bad guys don't always have fangs and glowing eyes. Sometimes, they appeared downright harmless. Aeryn was beginning to realize this herself, so she pulled herself quickly to her feet and began backing away.

"You said you'd stay!" the girl pouted, grabbing her wrist.

Aeryn stopped moving then, stunned. The grip was _far_ too strong for a child. In fact, the small fingers dug so deeply into her flesh that her hand was beginning to fall asleep. She struggled to pull away, too busy with that at first to notice that the girl was changing.

"Rygel!" she shouted, breaking free and turning to flee the creature. 

She stumbled, sprawling on the floor. When she looked up at the creature, it was completely different from the little girl it had first appeared to be. It was large, larger even than D'Argo, and seemed to be made entirely of water. Eyes wide, she crawled backwards away from the thing, struggling to grab her pulse-pistol. Finally freeing it and raising it to take aim at the creature, she was stunned when its arm suddenly grew twice as long. The elongated tendril snaked towards her and plucked the weapon effortlessly from her hand, tossing it casually into the far corner. 

Abruptly, Aeryn understood the look of horror that they had seen on the face of Ensign Kelsey. Her own face was wearing a similar expression as the creature engulfed her, like some single-celled organism about to digest a meal.


	7. the Ugly Truth

****

Author's Note: I know… Horrible place to end a chapter. And it was short, too. It wasn't me, though! It was Darth Raven. 

Blue: "We have _talked_ about this, Darth… Bad alter-ego! Bad, bad! Stay _down_!" *Blue smacks her alter-ego* 

So this chapter's a bit longer than usual by way of a peace-offering. 

****

Chapter 7 -- the Ugly Truth

"She's not going to survive another attack, is she?" John asked quietly, looking at Aeryn. 

The Peacekeeper was lying on the bed next to his, as pale as if she were already dead. Only the slight rise and fall of her chest betrayed any hint of life. Her lips were dry and cracked to the point of bleeding and her skin had a strange, rough look to it. Dark smudges marred her normally fair cheeks and circled her eyes. John had spent enough time in hot climates to know severe dehydration when he saw it, and Aeryn's was the worst case he had ever seen, even after several units of saline had been pumped into her body.

Zhann shook her head. "I seriously doubt it, John. You were lucky to have been able to fight it off, but Aeryn…"

"Aeryn never stood a chance…" he sighed, shaking his head. He raised his hands to his face, rubbing his mouth thoughtfully, wincing when the IV line caught on something. "How much longer do I need to have this in?" he asked, irritated.

"Not much longer now…" Zhann assured him. "Just until you've finished this bag."

"What about Aeryn? When will she wake up?"

"I don't know." Zhann shook her head. "Her species is far more susceptible to this sort of thing."

"But she _will_ recover?"

"Almost certainly." Zhann nodded, not looking at him as she gave Aeryn a fresh bag of saline.

"Zhann…" he said in a low voice.

The priestess sighed. "Sebacians do not tolerate prolonged dehydration very well, John. She was still weak from our ordeal when she was attacked."

"And, like the good Peacekeeper that she is, she never said anything."

Zhann nodded. "Most of her internal organs _are_ functioning normally again…" she offered by way of reassurance, picking up a syringe and emptying its contents into Aeryn's IV line. "The damage _will_ be long-lasting, but not permanent."

"Assuming she survives this…" John added bitterly. "Assuming _any_ of us survive this." He shook his head, angry. "I could _kill_ Rygel for letting her go off alone like that!" he snapped.

Zhann fixed him with a stern look. "And how shall we deal with Chiana for letting _you_ go off alone, John?" she asked gently. "Assigning blame will get us nowhere." She emptied a syringe into his IV line as she spoke.

"Damn! That _burns_!" he gasped, grabbing his arm. He stared at her wide-eyed, stunned by having what felt like acid injected into his vein without any warning. Of course, if she had warned him what it felt like, he probably would not have let her give it to him. "What the frell is that?"

"Potassium. It helps fight dehydration." 

"Right." John nodded. "Next time just give me a Centrum." 

"A what?" Zhann asked curiously.

"Um, vitamin. It's a pill, you swallow it. Doesn't _hurt_."

"Oh." Zhann nodded and walked back to her work bench.

"Mixing up a fresh batch of no-doze?" John asked.

Zhann nodded placidly. "We are, without a doubt, far more vulnerable to this creature when we sleep."

John nodded. "Which at least explains why Kelsey and Jax were the last to die, and then not until after they had run out of stimulants."

"Yes." Zhann nodded. "The others have decided that it is unwise for anyone to go anywhere on the ship alone."

John nodded. "Makes sense."

She nodded. "What can you tell me of the attack?" she asked.

"Um, this creature, whatever it is, is not like anything I've ever seen before." He paused for a moment. "Which I know doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot, but this thing is freaky. I swear to you, Zhann, it was made entirely of water or something. Almost like… I don't know. An amoebae." Seeing Zhann's confused look, he clarified, "Single-celled organism, no real features to it, just a mass of cellular fluid."

Zhann nodded. "Yes, these creatures are not uncommon in the water supplies of primitive worlds. But I've never heard of one growing so large before."

John shrugged. "I've heard that they can get pretty big, but I don't think that this is what this was."

  
"Why not?"

"It drew me into an ambush, probably Aeryn as well. That points to intelligence. Single-celled organisms don't have brains, ergo, no intelligence."

Zhann nodded. "You're right, I think. Similar but also very different."

He nodded. "This thing is about as close to an amoebae as you and I are to one, Zhann. But… maybe it… evolved from one over millions of years?"

"It would explain my findings, I think…" Zhann said softly.

John looked up, startled. "What did you find?"

"The 'water' that we found near you after the attack was not water at all."

"Cytoplasm? Cellular fluid?" John guessed, staring.

Zhann nodded. "And there's something else. _All_ of the water I have examined from this sphere shows an unusually high concentrations of organic contaminants, including cytoplasm."

"I thought you said the water is safe to drink."

"Oh, it is. There are no microbes, no parasites. Just too much organic material to be reasonably accounted for. I didn't think anything of it before."

"I think it feeds like an amoebae, too, Zhann…" John told her after a few minutes of consideration, dismissing that part of the mystery for now and getting back to more pressing matters. "It was trying to engulf me when I shot it."

  
"Which is how a single-celled organism would digest a meal." Zhann nodded. "Which is interesting, but unfortunately leaves us with no clearer an understanding of what we are facing."

"First rule of warfare, know your enemy."

Zhann glanced up at him, amused. "D'Argo said much the same thing." 

John nodded. "Can you look at the cytoplasm you have and see if you can come up with some way to kill this thing?"

  
Zhann nodded. "I'm already on it. I'm also going to analyze the water again for good measure. The two _must_ be linked. I'm almost certain of it."

"Yeah, you're right." John nodded. "All we have to do is figure out _how_."

Zhann nodded and returned to John's bedside. "All done…" she announced, deftly pulling the slender strand of tubing from his vein and quickly applying a bandage. "Plenty of water, as much rest as… this situation allows, and you carry your side-arm everywhere."

"Good deal." He nodded and picked the pulse-pistol up from his bed-side table, holstering it.

"How badly did you wound it?" she asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Looked like it lost an arm, but that didn't seem to slow it down in the least. It escaped through a duct in the ceiling, jumped straight up and into it. Or maybe it _was_ hurt bad and just didn't know it. No central nervous system means no pain."

"It also means no intelligence…" she pointed out.

He nodded, frustrated by this mystery they were facing. "Right." 

He sighed and sat thoughtfully on the edge of the bed, staring at Aeryn. He walked over to her and felt for a pulse. It was, mercifully, slower than it had been. The IV hydration was finally having the desired effect. Aeryn woke with a gasp, grabbing the hand on her throat in a vice-like grip that brought John to his knees. For a woman who had come close to dying less than five hours ago, she was _incredibly_ strong.

"Jeez, Aeryn! Take it easy. It's me." He moved into her line of sight, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's me. You're okay. You're safe now."

She shook her head, releasing his wrist and struggling to sit up. "None of us are safe."

"Whoa, no you don't…" John said quickly, pushing her back into a reclining position. "You've lost a lot of…" A lot of _what_? A little bit of everything, actually, according to Zhann. Blood, cytoplasm, water, spinal fluid… Basically she had lost a portion of every fluid in her body. "You're still pretty dehydrated. You need to rest if you're going to get better."

  
"The creature is a shape-shifter…" she announced, rubbing her forehead. She had a splitting headache and her vision was badly blurred. Her entire body ached, in fact, and the inside of her mouth felt as dry as a desert. "Zhann, can I get an analgesic?" 

"Of course, dear." Zhann quickly injected something into her neck. "Now, what were you telling us of the creature?"

"It's a shape-shifter. It can take on different forms. And I think it's telepathic, or possibly just telempathic, but I'm fairly certain that it was reading and manipulating my emotions."

"Why?" John asked. There was a time not too long ago when he would have asked _how_ instead, but he had spent enough time in the Uncharted Territories to know better than asking a question like that. Even when he _could_ understand the answer, he did not always want to hear it, and it was seldom particularly useful. _Why_ was a more practical question in terms of survival.

"To get me close enough to strike." She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and willing herself to ignore the horror that the memory elicited. "It… has to… engulf its victims in order to drain them."

"But how _does_ it drain them?" Zhann asked.

"The process is probably a lot like osmosis…" John ventured. Warming to this theory, he went on. "It's got some kind of lipid membrane that won't allow water out."

Zhann nodded. "But pores that will allow water _in_…"

John nodded. "And if the surface of this thing is dry--"

"It is…" Aeryn confirmed. "It felt so strange against my skin. It was this fluid thing, but it was bone-dry." 

Zhann nodded. "So naturally osmosis _would _occur, because all organisms seek homeostasis."

Aeryn glanced up at the two. She had not understood much of anything that the two had been saying. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" she asked sarcastically. "My translator microbes don't seem to be working properly."

John shook his head. "It's all about _balance_."

Zhann nodded and explained to Aeryn, "All organisms naturally seek a certain balance in everything. Including hydration. If a Tarumi-flower is wilted from lack of water, it will absorb the moisture from the air around it into itself, restoring the balance. In a body, if one area had too much water and another area not enough, the water will transfer itself to balance out the discrepancy."

"Oh." Aeryn nodded her understanding.

"There are ways that the process can be forced or faked…" Zhann added. "Salt, for instance--"

"That's it!" John exclaimed, pointing to Aeryn's face.

  
"What?" she frowned, wishing that he had not felt the need to shout. The dehydration-induced headache was agonizing enough without him _yelling_ at her.

"I thought it was like dry skin or something… Aeryn, you're covered in _salt_."

  
"What?" she repeated, raising her hand and examining it. Frowning, she scratched until flakes began falling off. Shrugging, she popped one into her mouth, making a face. "Oh, that's foul! And it is _not_ salt!" She glared at John.

"Are you sure?" Zhann asked.

"I _do_ know what salt tastes like…" Aeryn pointed out.

"There are many different types of salts…" Zhann pointed out, collecting a scrapping from Aeryn's arm. "Not all are edible."

"_Potassium_ chloride?" John asked thoughtfully. "It does kind of have that look…"

Zhann shrugged. "It's not impossible, but I doubt it. The salt would have to have an incredibly tight crystalline structure in order to withstand constant exposure to the water. It's probably not something that we've ever seen before…"

Aeryn lay back and closed her eyes, tuning them out. When they got like that, they could go on for hours, uttering words and phrases that were comprehensible only to each other. It would have been annoying if it was not so often useful. She scratched her arm, suddenly feeling in very bad need of a shower.

***

"So this thing has to completely engulf us to be able to hurt us?" Chiana asked.

Zhann shook her head. "No, John was only in contact with it for a few moments, and he was never completely engulfed. Any direct contact _at all_ is enough to cause some damage."

"How do we kill it?" D'Argo asked.

"Good question…" Rygel said, nodding.

John sighed as Zhann returned to her workbench. "Zhann is still working on that. We're only here to tell you what we know so far. _One_, this thing is some kind of shape-shifter. It appeared to Aeryn as a little girl before it changed and attacked her. _Two_, it is probably capable of manipulating our thoughts and feelings at close range or Aeryn probably would have questioned what Little Orphan Annie was doing in an ion backwash chamber."

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Aeryn sighed, annoyed with herself for that. She shifted her IV line absently, noting that she would need another bag of fluid soon. Her body was greedily soaking the liquid up at an incredibly rapid rate, even after having already taken in more than she knew her body _should_ have been able to.

She closed her eyes as Zhann emptied another syringe of potassium into her IV line, then continued. "_Three_, shooting off limbs does not even slow it down, so if you get a chance to aim, go for center-mass. _Four_, getting attacked by this thing _hurts_ and you should do everything in your power to avoid having it happen to you."

Rygel rolled his eyes. "All hail Aeryn, queen of the obvious."

Leaning over, she smacked him on the back of the head, hard enough to send him tumbling from his seat and continued without skipping a beat. "_Five_, after having analyzed the water, Zhann is fairly certain that it is _not_ feeding." She gestured to John to explain that, feeling too fatigued to continue. 

He nodded. "We think it is collecting and _storing_ certain organic building blocks for future consumption. This ball of water is a handy storage space for it. The water is _full _of amino-acids, proteins, DNA fragments, certain vitamins, minerals, enzymes…" He trailed off. Every time he considered the implications of that, it made him nauseous. A week ago he had considered drinking _blood_ to survive unthinkable, and now he had to face the fact that he had been drinking a lot more than that.

D'Argo had obviously reached the same conclusion from the disgusted look on his face. After a few moments of struggle, he retreated from the room to be ill. Chiana looked like she was considering doing the same thing. Aeryn was, of course, unfazed, as Rygel seemed to be.

John could hardly blame them, having done the same thing himself when he had first heard Zhann's news. She had gently pointed out that, morally, it was really not that different than eating meat in order to survive and, perhaps, _less_ objectionable because they had not themselves killed the victims. John had given up trying to point out that it was technically cannibalism very quickly when it became apparent that she did not really havethat much of a problem with cannibalism, simply with murder for the sake of cannibalism. 

"Good thing Luxans aren't prone to dehydration…" Rygel commented snidely as D'Argo reentered the bay.

Aeryn was weak, but not too weak to hit him again. As the Hynerian pulled himself back onto his seat, she spoke in a low, serious voice. "D'Argo, I know how your people feel about these matters, but we _must_ continue to drink if we are to escape this."

As D'Argo started to shake his head, Chiana gently touched his shoulder. Her voice was shaky but decisive. "She… she's right, big guy."

As Aeryn, Zhann, and Chiana gently combined their voices to convince the Luxan, John stepped to the far side of the bay, tapping his Comm.

"Pilot, any word on when propulsion is going to be back up?" he asked in a low voice, ignoring the whispering voices in the background.

"The damage is… more extensive than I had originally supposed…" Pilot told him apologetically. Constantly deluged by the Comm-ghosts, he had become very good at tuning them out. "It could be some time more, Commander, before the DRDs are able to repair all the damage. Moya and I are sorry."

"No problem, Pilot. Not your fault, _definitely_ not Moya's fault." He paused for a moment, shivering as a low keening came over the Comm. "In fact, why don't you divert a couple of DRDs to the Comm system? See what we can do about these voices."

"I'm afraid that… may not be possible, Commander. All DRDs not currently working on propulsion are being utilized to search Moya for the intruder."

John nodded. "Okay. That's obviously a lot more important. Have you been listening to what's going on down here?"

"I have. We are… pleased that Officer Sun is recovering." There was a slight pause and then, "Is Moya in danger from this creature?"

John sighed deeply. "Not sure, Pilot."

"I'm afraid she is, Pilot…" Zhann said in a gentle voice, joining John and urging him to rejoin the others.

John followed, surprised. "Are you sure?" he asked her.

She nodded. "My most recent scans of the water outside are starting to show gene-fragments and other materials that are indisputably Leviathan."

"Damn!" John shouted, frustrated. "Damn thing could bleed a ship this size dry before we find it."

"This makes no sense…" Aeryn said, frowning.

"You mean you only just figured this out?" Chiana asked, shaking her head.

Aeryn ignored her. "Crichton is right. This creature could bleed Moya dry before we found it. So why attack _us_? Compared to Moya, we are insignificant as a food-source for this thing."

"If I may contribute…" Pilot said softly.

"Of course." Aeryn nodded. "Go ahead, Pilot."

"The attacks against yourself and the Commander, Officer Sun, did not occur until after we had discovered that propulsion had been disabled."

Zhann nodded. "That _is_ true, Pilot, but what does it have to do with this?"

Pilot paused momentarily before suggesting, "Perhaps the creature is somehow _tied_ to this location…" 

John blinked, then nodded. "It disables the engines so we can't go anywhere, which gives it plenty of time to feed."

  
Aeryn nodded, catching on. "Then it hides itself away on Moya and begins feeding from her, because she is probably a dream come true for a creature like this. And when it looks like we might _leave_… it attacks from desperation, to keep us here."

"It's changed its strategy…" D'Argo said. "It will try to kill us all now _before_ it begins again with Moya."

"Maybe… maybe we can… chase it off…" Chiana suggested. "I mean, it's already got plenty of food stored away. It doesn't _need_ us."

"Unless it is satisfying some sort of biological imperative…" Zhann told her gently.

John nodded. "In which case all bets are off. This thing is acting like a squirrel and I'm betting that Moya is the tastiest nut it's come across in a long time."

"Did you get… _any_ of that?" Chiana whispered to D'Argo.

The Luxan shook his head and whispered back, "Not a word. But he's right, anyway. We can't count on it deciding that we're too hard a target."

Aeryn overheard and nodded in agreement, stating. "We find a way to kill this thing, we find it, we kill it."

Chiana nodded. "Good plan."

"But we still don't know _how_ to kill it…" Zhann pointed out. "Or if it even _can_ be."

"What about… dehydrating it or something?" D'Argo suggested. "If it's made out of water…"

"Technically, it's not water…" John pointed out.

"Stop splitting hairs…" Rygel suggested.

"It's an important point, Buckwheat!"

"Hey!" Aeryn shouted, realizing that an argument was shaping up. "Let's stay _focused_!"

John nodded. "Yeah, sorry. My point is that just drying this thing out might not be enough. _If_ we can even figure out a way to do that."

"Heat?" Chiana suggested. "Water evaporates, yeah?"

"No." John shook his head. "Not necessarily this time. Not if it's got a cell-wall or some other membrane keeping it in."

"What if we find a way to do to it what it's done to its victims?" Aeryn asked.

"It's a possibility…" Zhann agreed. "One of many. I'll need time to run more tests."

Aeryn nodded and turned to the others. "Shooting it doesn't seem to help. That means that if _anyone_ is going to find a way to kill it, it probably will be Zhann. In the meantime, we sleep in shifts, we carry our weapons everywhere, and we do _not_ let each other out of our sight."

***

The intelligence who called himself Caize rested securely in the conduit, enjoying this amazing new food-source. She was so sweet. Better still, it could take him _years_ to drain her completely.

He was less pleased with the creatures that called her home. The funny-tasting Sebacian man had _shot_ him! He had not been physically attacked like that in hundreds of cycles, and it left him injured and in pain. It was fortunate that the Sebacian woman had been so close by. Feeding from her had allowed him to regenerate the damaged material. Her already weakened state had made it easy for him to select a form that she would be sympathetic towards, a form that would draw her close and make her let her guard down. She had tasted very nice as well, so he had left enough for later. 

Still, it disturbed him to be _forced_ to begin with these small prizes before he could set down to the work of enjoying the amazing craft. He had never in his life experienced such a unique creature. Once he had killed her crew, he would be able to settle down with her and begin his _real_ work. Once he had drained her completely, he would be able to taste of her sweetness for hundreds of cycles to come. Just as soon as he dealt with the other morsels. 

It had been better than fifty cycles since the last ship had blundered into his home. He had, as always, started slowly and cautiously, draining them in their sleep. He could only handle so much at once, so he had drained them only slightly, and only one or two at a time, making it seem like some strange illness. Between the draining times, he had created the Comm-ghosts and appeared to the crew in various forms calculated to set them on edge. The ensuing chaos, as always, allowed him to work with impunity.

It was a technique that his species had perfected millions of cycles ago.

This time, though, things had gone badly wrong. He had gravely miscalculated in turning to the ship before her crew. The damage from that error was compounded when the Sebacian woman had gone onto the Marauder, dragging the funny-tasting one with her. He had tried to lure the man to him with images and sounds taken from an imagination that was easily turned against its owner, but to no avail. The funny-tasting one had not reacted as Caize had supposed he would, and the paranoia that had always been a friend to Caize before was turned against him.

Once the crew had known of him, known of the damage he had caused to prevent his new prize from leaving, he had attacked by necessity. Attacking the funny-tasting one first had just been personal, but the others would quickly have followed him to his fate. Or the fate that he _would_ have suffered if he had not shot Caize, forcing him to flee.

This time, killing the funny-tasting one would be even _more _personal… 


	8. Battle Lines

****

Author's Note: Sorry about the long delay between the last chapter and this one. We've been moving to new quarters for the past week, so not a lot of time for writing.

Chapter 8 -- Battle Lines

When Aeryn's suggestions were readily accepted by the others, she added that someone should be sent to stay with Pilot. Just in case. She had volunteered herself for that duty, saying that, while weak, she was _not_ too weak to shoot the hezmana out of the damned thing if she saw it again. John and Chiana had walked her down to Pilot's den, leaving D'Argo to guard the others. 

"Moya and I are most pleased to see that you have recovered more fully, Officer Sun," Pilot said.

Aeryn smiled. "Thank you, Pilot. It is _definitely_ good to be up and around again." She unshouldered her pulse-rifle and leaned against the control panel. "You think this thing will try to attack you? Or does it consider you just another part of the ship?"

"I am… not entirely certain, Officer Sun. It may not have attacked me yet because it is unaware of me. Or perhaps is does not view me as a threat." He paused. "I am certainly more vulnerable to it than any of you…" he added. "Perhaps it knows that it can safely save me for last."

Aeryn scowled and nodded grimly. "Well, if it wants you, Pilot, it's going to have to come through me."

"I am grateful."

Aeryn shrugged. Pilot was her friend, a kindred spirit in many ways. Of _course_ she was going to defend him from this creature.

"So, you mentioned that you think that the creature is tied to this place?" she asked to kill time.

"Yes." Pilot nodded.

  
"Why?"

Pilot paused for a moment. "In our travels, Moya and I have met with many other Leviathans. Many report that certain types of space-born life-forms are physically dependent on certain locations."

Aeryn nodded. "But why would that be the case, Pilot?"

"Some require certain trace elements to survive, or distinctive types of radiation… Still others can not exist in the presence of certain elements or types of radiation…. Mmm… I had noticed that the surface of this sphere naturally deflects many types of radiation."

"Frell me dead…" Aeryn whispered, hitting her Comm, ignoring the Comm-ghosts which had been growing more and more insistent lately. The whispers were beginning to resolve themselves into almost-distinguishable speech. More than one of the voices was personally familiar to her. "Zhann?" she asked, shaking off the thought. The creature could read her mind. It _knew_ those things most likely to unsettle her. She would _not_ give it the satisfaction. "Zhann, are you there?"

"_Yes, Aeryn? Can you speak up?_" Zhann's voice was difficult to distinguish from the Comm-ghosts. 

"Frell!" Aeryn snapped. She shouted, "_Zhann! Can … you … hear … me?_"

"_Barely!_" came the shouted response, almost obscured by the Comm-ghosts.

Aeryn shouted into the Comm, speaking slowly and enunciating carefully. "_I … need … to … talk … to … you!_" 

The response was garbled, but Aeryn was fairly certain that it was an affirmative of some kind. Shaking her head, she deactivated the Comm and pulled it off of her shirt. With a finally glare at it, she tossed it over the edge, listening in satisfaction as it clattered downwards for several hundred feet before it got too far away to hear any more. Noticing Pilot staring at her, she shrugged.

"It was annoying…" she explained.

Pilot nodded slowly, his face betraying confusion over the action, but he did not comment. He only occasionally understood the things this crew did, and he had largely given up trying to. He waited patiently until John and Zhann walked into the den.

"Pilot, could you tell Zhann what you told me?" Aeryn asked.

Pilot nodded and began speaking to the Delvian. John waited patiently for a few moments, listening, then he approached Aeryn. 

"Is it just me or are the Comm-ghosts getting worse?" he asked her in a low voice, not wanting to disturb Zhann and Pilot.

Aeryn nodded. "More distinct, too."

John nodded and hesitated for a moment before asking, "You, um… you… _recognize_ any of the voices?" He knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but he had to know whether it was just him. The fact that some of the voices filtering in over the sensors was unnerving to say the least, and John had been half-sure at first that he had been imagining it. Now, though, there could be no doubt. He was more than a little worried that he might be cracking under the pressure.

She gave a short nod, startled by the question, but not betraying her surprise. "Yes. You?"

John nodded but did not elaborate. He was not _about_ to tell her that one of the voices belonged quite clearly to his mother, another to a childhood playmate who had died when he was ten. For her part, Aeryn did not mention that she recognized the voice of Tauvlo Crais and the voice of a Squad-mate who had died violently not long before Aeryn had been forced to defect. 

"This is screwed up…" John declared. 

Aeryn nodded. "It's playing on our worst fears…" she told him simply. She was not unfamiliar with the strategy. Executed properly, it could win a war without a shot being fired. Aeryn knew instinctively that this was exactly what the creature was attempting, trying to scatter and disorganize them, to make them less able to defend against it.

John looked at her thoughtfully, not as surprised by the pronouncement as by what it seemed to imply. Aeryn Sun, miss tough-chick of the universe, was actually afraid of something. "What scares you, Aeryn?" he asked, curious.

"None of your business."

John shrugged. "Fair enough. I guess it's kind of a personal question."

"_Very_ personal…" she agreed, nodding. "Peacekeepers _are_ supposed to be without fear." Or, at least, that was what she had always been taught. Fear was a weakness and there was no place in a Peacekeeper for anything resembling weakness or vulnerability. 

"Aeryn, no one's without fear…" he pointed out gently.

  
Aeryn nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. I'm starting to realize that." 

She glanced away, not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see his reaction to her admission of weakness. Since she had met this bizarre alien, she had found many things to be afraid of, not the least of those being her own people, her own CO. And then there was the loneliness. _That_, more than anything she had ever faced, was almost overwhelmingly fearsome to a woman who had spent her entire life as a face in the crowd, a member of a group.

John was startled by her tone and behavior when she said that. She was worried, scared. And _ashamed_ of being scared. Gently, he squeezed her upper arm. He knew what scared her most in the universe, wanted her to know that she was _not_, in spite of what she thought, alone. 

"To tell you the truth, Aeryn, I was pretty horrified earlier."

"When the creature was attacking you?" she asked, nodding. She considered pulling out of his grasp but realized that his touch, while uninvited, was not unwelcome. It reminded her that she was not as alone as she sometimes felt. 

He shook his head. "No, when I thought you might not make it."

Aeryn blinked, startled. "Why?" she asked, shaking her head.

John frowned at the question. "Um, 'cause you're my friend." He shrugged. "Don't want to lose you, Aeryn. You… You mean a lot to me."

"No one's losing anyone…" she assured him, as much to cover her own surprise at the statement as anything. He actually _cared_ about her. Not simply as a shipmate but as a _friend_. To a woman who had never really been able to call anyone 'friend' before, who had never had the term applied to her by others, the thought was gratifying in the extreme. 

John smiled slightly. "Works for me…" he said, nodding. "So, you really think Zhann's going to be able to figure out a way to kill this thing?" he asked.

Aeryn nodded. "I think so. She's a smart woman." She shrugged, smiling grimly. "And if _she_ can't, _we_ will just have to figure something out…"

John grinned. "Like shooting it until it leaves us alone?" he guessed.

Amused, she nodded again, smiling. "You'd be surprised how many creatures that works for…" she told him.

John laughed and nodded. "You _could_ have something there…"

***

Caize was growing irritated. These food-sources were _not_ reacting as they should have, as every other food-source he had ever encountered had. They were huddling together, heavily armed, making _plans_. It was offensive to him. The short-lived species _never_ planned. They were little better than animals, incapable of most forms of higher thought. They reacted with blind panic, scattering and, in their fear, making themselves _more_ vulnerable. These creatures, though, coordinated with each other, the strong protecting the weak in a way that flew in the face of evolution. They were not even related! Not even members of the same species, and yet they defended each other from harm.

No member of Caize's species would have hesitated for a single moment to sacrifice another in order to secure himself a few more days of existence. _That_ was part of the inherent nature of every living thing in the universe, higher species or lower, short-lived or enduring. Or, at least, that was the case in every living thing that he had yet encountered. So how were these creatures different? And why? The funny-tasting one, of course. It had to be that one's fault. Caize had never encountered another like it before, never even _heard_ of a similar creature.

It treated the others as if they _were_ family, treated the Sebacian as if she had borne him offspring, though clearly she had not. It cared about creatures that it had no relationship to, was every bit as eager to protect them as he was to be protected by them. It brought out these same laughable traits in the others, too, made them formidable instead of vulnerable. Who had ever heard of a Sebacian who protected _aliens_? Yet _this_ Sebacian woman did, contaminated by the strange one. The solution was obvious. The funny-tasting one would _have_ to die. It was no longer a matter of principle or revenge, but a necessity. 

Once he was gone, though, Caize had no doubt that the others would revert to a more natural mode of behavior._ Then_ he could be done with them and start on their ship, their wonderful, sweet-tasting ship unlike any other life-form he had ever encountered. 

It never occurred to him to simply leave the ship and its crew alone. Like any member of his species, once he had tasted of a life-form and found it to his liking, he was driven by instinct to bleed it dry. Even if he had recognized this, he would have been powerless to stop himself. It was him or them, and he had _not_ lived for over a millennium for nothing. He would survive and they would perish. It was the way things had always been, the natural order. One by one, they _would_ perish.

Starting with the funny-tasting one. 

***

"So, you and Pilot come up with a workable plan?" John asked as he walked Zhann back to her lab.

"The beginnings of one, at the very least…" Zhann assured him gently, smiling. 

He was in a better mood than he had been since this insanity had began, no doubt comforted by whatever had passed between himself and Aeryn. It was amusing to think that they actually believed their attentions to and preference for each other to be subtle, if a little distressing that they actually seemed to have no real inkling themselves of the depth of their emotions for each other. Still, perhaps this experience would bring them closer together. Life and death experiences often had that effect on people, forcing them to acknowledge thoughts and emotions that it had once been easier simply to ignore.

"Radiation, Aeryn said?" John asked, unholstering his pulse-pistol and leaning cautiously around a corner. They went through this procedure every time they came to a junction or doorway, wary of being ambushed. So far, though, it seemed to have been largely unnecessary. No one had seen any sign of the creature since its attack on Aeryn. "Clear…" he announced to Zhann, rounding the corner and once again holstering the weapon.

Zhann followed him around the corner, nodding. "Pilot indicates that this creature, members of its species, may be forced to seek out these water-planets as a source of protection from various types of cosmic radiation." She frowned, momentarily thoughtful. "I had assumed that such spheres of water were simply valuable as storage-places, but Pilot informs me that the surface of such planetoids as this one deflects various wavelengths of radiation."

John nodded. "So the reason these ghost-stories always center around these balls of water is because they're the only place these creatures can survive?"

Zhann nodded. "It is not necessary that all, or even _most_ such planetoids be inhabited by these creatures. If only a handful are, the reports would still be able to spread, and this type of mystery would become permanently linked in people's minds with these planetoids."

"And a legend is born…" John said, nodding.

Zhann nodded agreement. "However, if they _are_ truly dependent upon these water-planets to survive, then this is a weakness that we may be able to exploit."

John nodded. "But if they're dependent upon these things, how did this one get here? From where?"

Zhann shrugged. "It is not unlikely that these creatures pass through multiple distinct stages of development. One of these stages may be resistant to the conditions one finds in the depths of space. Perhaps the larval stage floats dormant until it comes into contact with one of these planetoids at which time they become active and viable."  


John nodded. "Makes sense. You think you're going to be able to come up with a way to kill this thing?"

Zhann nodded. "There _may_ be some merit to Aeryn's suggestion of 'shooting it until it dies'." She paused, smiling faintly. "However, I am not entirely convinced that this is the best way to kill it. If it is indeed vulnerable to various wavelengths of radiation, if we can discover _which_…"

"Flood the ship with that wavelength, problem solved." John nodded. "Good plan."

Zhann nodded. "Of course, not all wavelengths are safe for us to expose the crew, or Moya herself, to. We may need to find another way to expose the creature than simply flooding the ship." She shrugged. "Time will tell."

"Yeah." John nodded. "You know, Zhann, I'm am _really_ glad that you're one of the good guys." He grinned.

Zhann smiled benignly. "But, John, I am _not_ one of the 'good guys'…" she joked mildly. Remember how we met."

"Right, prison-break. Zhann the anarchist. _That_ I'll believe when I see it." Grinning, John shook his head and patted her on the shoulder.

Zhann's smile wavered slightly, but she quickly pushed aside the thoughts that were troubling her. Time enough to reflect on her crimes later. For the present, she had a task to accomplish, friends to protect. She smiled more widely at John, bowing her head slightly, disguising distress as wry amusement until she could compose herself.

"So, what if we aren't equipped to generate whatever kind of radiation we need?" John asked as they walked.

"Then, John Crichton, we have a slight problem." Zhann smiled faintly. "_However_, much can be accomplished given sufficient ingenuity and a certain degree of urgency."

"Necessity is the mother of invention…" John told her, grinning.

Zhann smiled and nodded. "An accurate assessment of the situation."

"Human expression."

"Your species is most observant, then." Zhann nodded her approval. "I am confident that this situation, like so many others, will prove easily resolved in the face of our combined efforts."

Having just spouted _one_ human colloquialism that met with Zhann's approval, John decided to try another one. "United we stand, divided we fall."

Zhann smiled her approval, nodding.

"Or, in the case of this particular horror-movie, _never_ split up…" he muttered, shaking his head and rounding another corner.

"John…" Zhann cautioned, following close on his heels. "_John!_" she shouted, warning him of his danger

She took an involuntary step back at her first sight of the creature, towering over John, who was standing, stunned. As John fumbled for his weapon, it was clear to Zhann that the creature had been observing them, _waiting _for them to let their guard down. And now that John had, it attacked. His pulse-pistol was sent skittering across the corridor as the creature closed on John, forming more and more tendrils and wrapping them around the struggling, screaming human. 

Zhann dodged around the creature, retrieving John's pulse-pistol and leveling it at the creature. Although John had scoffed at the idea of Zhann as a seditionist, a freedom-fighter she _had_ been, and she was by no means unskilled in the use of a pulse-pistol. Squeezing off three shots in rapid succession, she managed to hit the creature three times without harming John in the slightest. 

Howling, it released the human and fled through a nearby duct as Zhann raced to John's side, assessing his condition. He had been badly drained by the creature this time, but was not beyond help. They were close enough to her lab that D'Argo and Chiana had heard her warning cry, John's shouts, and the creature's bellow. They were at John's side moments after she herself was, and they quickly moved him to the lab.

Whatever else was true of his species, Zhann realized that they were incredibly resilient. John regained consciousness soon after Zhann began rehydrating him, cursing softly. The pain had been worse that time, and he had no doubt that, but for Zhann's intervention, the creature _would_ have killed him.

"Damn, woman…" he groaned, shaking his head as the Delvian worked. "You're like the Annie Oaklie of the Uncharted Territories, you know that?"

Zhann, who had no idea what he was talking about, gently hushed him, urging him to rest.

  
"Nope, no time to rest…" John groaned, struggling to sit up. "That creature's pissed now. Got to find it and kill it before it does this to someone else. If you hadn't been there, Zhann, I _would_ have died. Someone should be with Aeryn…" 

Zhann hushed him again, restraining him with more strength than he would have thought it possible for her to possess. "D'Argo and Chiana brought back samples of the creature's cellular fluid for me to work with. We'll know how to defeat it soon…" she promised.


	9. Endgame

****

Chapter 9 – Endgame

"Let me get this straight?" John asked, shaking his head. "To kill this thing, we've got to get within arm's reach of it?"

"I'm afraid so…" Zhann confirmed, nodding.

"Frelling great…" Chiana snapped, shaking her head. "This thing nearly kills Aeryn and John. _Twice._ And to kill it, we have to get close enough to let it attack us? That's farbohtz…" 

  
"_Very _farbohtz…" Rygel agreed, nodding.

"Hey, no one's asking _you_ to volunteer, Sparky…" John assured him.

"Well, you and Aeryn are in no shape…" D'Argo began.

"Hey, I'm doing this…" John told him firmly. "It's personal at this point, D."

D'Argo shook his head in disgust. "Zhann, tell him that he's in no shape…"

Zhann nodded in agreement. "He's right, John. _Whoever _does this runs a not-inconsiderable risk. You have been attacked twice by this creature already. It will take better than a quarter of a cycle for you to fully recover. A third attack could be fatal."

John sighed and shook his head.

"Can we at least agree that Aeryn is not going to be the one to do this?" D'Argo suggested.

"Definitely." John nodded firmly. "A second attack could kill her at this point."

"And a third attack could kill _you_…" Chiana pointed out, shaking her head. "Crazy human…"

"Chi…" John began, only to be cut off by Zhann.

"She's right, John…" the Delvian told him gently. "It's not safe for you."

"It's not _safe_ for any of us!" John pointed out, shaking his head. "I say we draw straws for it."

"No!" D'Argo said firmly. "You are _not_ doing this. _Aeryn_ is not doing this."

"You plan on doing it?" Chiana asked, frowning. "Come on, D'Argo…"

"I am _not_ as susceptible to dehydration as the rest of you…" D'Argo pointed out.

"That's not entirely true…" Rygel muttered in a low voice. Aware that everybody was staring at him, he shrugged defensively. "I'm amphibious."

"Shouldn't that make you _more_ susceptible?" John asked, frowning.

"Hyneria has long drought periods. We've evolved to be able to withstand prolonged deprivation…" he admitted.

"Prolonged deprivation is _not_ the same as rapid, forced dehydration, Rygel…" Zhann pointed out gently.

"Don't remind me, you blue-assed bitch…" Rygel sighed and shook his head. "I might change my mind."

"You're actually volunteering?" Chiana asked, startled. "You?"

  
Rygel hesitated for a split-second before nodding. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm doing." He looked at the others proudly. "It is what any Dominar of my House would do to protect his allies."

Zhann smiled faintly. "You do your ancestors proud, Dominar Rygel."

Rygel smiled faintly. "So, what does this involve?" he asked, doing his best not to sound nervous.

Zhann held up the small, converted medical-scanner. "This emits the proper radiation wavelengths. Exposure at close range should kill the creature."

"How close?" Rygel asked, nervousness creeping back into his voice.

Zhann sighed. "It needs to be touching the creature when you activate it."

"That's suicide…" Chiana whispered, shaking her head.

Although he was inclined to agree, Rygel pretended not to have heard. "How am I to lure this creature to me?"

"It seems to have developed a taste for John…" Zhann began quietly, laying out the plan that he had proposed.

***

"Yo, Officer Sun!" John shouted as he and Rygel walked down the corridor towards Pilot's den. For a number of reasons, it had been settled on as the ideal place for the ambush. "Incoming!"

"Tell the entire ship, why don't you?" came the reply.

"That's kind of the plan!" he shouted back, laughing. "Remember?"

In Pilot's den, Aeryn rolled her eyes and clutched her pulse-rifle more firmly in her hands. The entire plan was suicidal. Rygel and Crichton would probably _both_ end up dead, a fact which she found mattering to her more than she knew it probably should have. A _real_ Peacekeeper would enthusiastically have embraced the plan, she knew. Possibly sacrificing one or two individuals to save an entire crew was a more than fair trade, after all. But Aeryn could not shake her fond feelings for either of them. Even the Hynerian slug had grown into, if not a friend, at least an ally. And he had given her water when she had needed it most. 

Now, against all reason, the normally opportunistic and cowardly Dominar was putting his own life on the line to protect the others. She shook her head in confusion. From the human, she could understand that kind of pointless, suicidal behavior. It was just the kind of thing he did. Reason simply did not enter into his mind very often. _That_ she was used to. But _Rygel_? Too much time with Crichton, definitely. There was simply no other explanation for the Hynerian's second altruistic act in under a week. He had that effect, not just on Rygel, but on all of them. 

In her own mind, Aeryn was not sure whether to call Crichton's influence good or not. Admittedly, his off-kilter way of looking at things got them _out_ of trouble at least as often as it got them _into_ trouble, but… It was just hard to judge. Everything she had ever been taught to believe told her that the human's way of behaving was wrong, but, deep inside, she was beginning to wonder at the veracity of those teachings. If they could survive where the Marauder crew had not, where no other crew had before them… Might there not be something to the human's way of behaving?

"You seem… troubled, Officer Sun…" Pilot ventured quietly.

Aeryn shook her head. "No, Pilot. Just deep in thought. Wondering at the chances of our surviving this."

"Much improved, I should think, not that Zhann has developed a weapon that can destroy the creature."

Aeryn nodded slowly. That, too, flew in the face of everything she had ever been taught. Science prevailing where military might could not? Techs were the lowest of the low in Peacekeeper society, and yet it was Zhann, a scientist, a _Tech_, who had discovered what might well end up being their salvation. A weapon developed by a Tech and a suicide-run by two members of 'lesser species'… a Tech to whom she owed her life, lesser beings who were her friends… Hard as it was to simply dismiss sixty-odd cycles of indoctrination, she had lately been forced to admit that _much _of what she had always believed was, if not wrong outright, at least questionable.

"Why hasn't it attacked yet?" she asked Pilot, shaking her head. The entire plan depended on the obviously-intelligent creature taking bait that was _obviously_ bait. "This is _never_ going to work…" she muttered, shaking her head.

"Zhann would advise you to have faith…" Pilot pointed out.

"Faith?" Aeryn repeated, shaking her head. "Not exactly something that Peacekeepers are brought up to appreciate, Pilot." 

She opened her mouth to speak again when she heard a warning-shout from Rygel, followed by a scream from Crichton. She raced from the den as fast as her legs would carry her, diving under the door moments before it slammed shut. That entire section of corridor had been similar sealed, leaving John, Aeryn, Rygel, and Caize trapped together. Unable to escape, the creature was forced to attack. He went for John first, only to be distracted by a well-placed shot from Aeryn's pulse-rifle. Enraged, he spun to confront her, instead, regretting that he had not finished her when he had the chance.

John had been weakened by the initial attack, but was strong enough to cover Aeryn's retreat with several well-placed shots of his own. Rygel observed, biding his time as he had been told to. His job was, perhaps, the most dangerous, and no one wanted to take any chances. As the creature vacillated between attempts to finish Aeryn and John, Rygel watched, staying out of the way and waiting for his own chance to strike. It came quickly, though not in a way that anyone would have hoped for. A curse from John drew everyone's attention as he squeezed the trigger of his pulse-pistol several times without effect.

"_You're out of chakan oil?_" Aeryn demanded, incredulous, grabbing him and trying to haul him to safety only to be thrown across the corridor by the creature. She hit the wall solidly and slumped to the ground, dazed.

  
Caize spared her a glance before turning his attention to the funny-tasting one. Draining him would be a sweet satisfaction indeed. As Caize closed on John, Rygel, unnoticed, closed on him. As he bent over John, prone and weaponless, Rygel struck, burying his own weapon deeply in the creature's back and activating it as Zhann had shown him. The ear-shattering howl knocked all three crew members to the ground and told them that the weapon was doing its job.

Caize was soon reduced to a puddle on Moya's deck. Aeryn assured herself that Rygel was unharmed before scrambling over to John, who was still lying on the ground, unmoving.

"Frell!" she hissed, tossing her pulse-rifle away in disgust and feeling for a pulse. It was there, rapid and weak. "Zhann!" she called, activating her Comm. The lack of Comm-ghosts made her momentarily sure that it was not working, until she heard Zhann's response, clear as day.

"On my way, Aeryn."

"Pilot, get these hatches unsealed!" Aeryn ordered, bending over the human and shaking him. "Come on, Crichton…" she muttered, shaking her head. 

To lose him now, like this, after _his_ plan had saved them all… It could not be allowed. As she moved aside to let Zhann work, she returned silently to Pilot's den, feeling strangely hollow. As unacceptable as the Peacekeeper she had been raised to be should have felt it, she had grown to regard him as a friend, and the thought of life without him was a dismal one. She sat in silence with Pilot, who seemed as despondent as she felt, each comforting the other through their simple presence.

***

John's first conscious thought was that death would have been preferable to the kind of pain he found himself in now. His next thought was that Zhann's hands, gently smoothing a wet cloth over his face, where remarkably gentle. When he finally managed to open his eyes and found himself staring into eyes black instead of blue, he smiled. 

"Did it work?" he coughed.

"Mmm…" Aeryn nodded. "Yes, it actually did, by some miracle."

"I thought you people didn't believe in miracles…" he teased, smiling weakly.

"Your plan--"

"Worked."

"Was _suicidal_…" she corrected him firmly, dipping the cloth back into the basin of water. Dabbing it against his bare chest, she added grudgingly, "And it worked."

"Rygel?" John asked quickly.

"Just fine. Enjoying more credit than he probably deserves." Aeryn smiled and shook her head. "Chiana is cooking all of his favorite foods as we speak."

"Remind me to avoid the galley for a few days…" he laughed. "That smell…"

Aeryn made a face and nodded. Placing the wet rag down, she checked his IV, changing his bag.

"Where's Zhann?" he asked, surprised that Aeryn was doing it.

"She's performing some kind of funerary rite for all of the creature's victims. She's been chanting non-stop for three days now."

"I've been out for _three_ days?"

"Four…" Aeryn corrected him quietly, injecting something into his new IV. "It was… touch and go. We nearly lost you, Crichton."

"Nah." He shook his head. "I'm a tough guy to kill. Too stubborn to die."

  
Aeryn allowed herself a faint smile. "Yes, you _are_ remarkably stubborn. Remarkably lucky as well. Zhann is quite convinced that some _very_ powerful gods smile on you."

John smiled and shrugged. "Never know."

Aeryn shook her head. "Superstitious, too, hmm? Figures…" She picked up the rag again and resumed sponging his dry, fevered skin.

John closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle care. As whatever she had injected into his IV worked its way into his system, the pain faded, replaced by a sense of calm and well-being.

"So, we got it?" he asked, yawning.

"Yeah." Aeryn nodded. "We did." She worked in silence for a few more minutes, until it was quite clear that the human was almost asleep. "I was pretty scared…" she admitted quietly.

"Really?" he yawned. "When?"

"When it looked like you might not make it…" she admitted, not looking at him. Luckily, he was too far asleep to make much sense of the comment, but it felt good admitting it, if only to herself.

****

The End


End file.
